SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 160
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Well, Dear Diary of the Online World, I made a complete ass out of myself by saying that the year of 2011 is not like any of the other PITSY's. Nothing could have ended up being any further away from the total truth in the matter, nothing at all. I had just posted my previous blog up to two websites, www.blogger.com/ and www.wordpress.com/ when immediately I felt the need to lie down and relax, and talk to “Diana” over the phone, as I have done since the year of 1983. Indeed peeps, 2011 is the hugest event out of all three of them now, being 1980, 1994, 2011. It may have taken a more esoteric and non-materialistic form as opposed to tangible and physical, which seemingly would better match the waking world, but in this very unusual and special case, this simply does not matter, as the gravity of what I am going to embark on as this blog moves forward, may become clear and evident in so far as its true cosmic importance, both to me individually, as well as to the entire rest of the world, collectively.
Except for perhaps a very select few in the Entertainment World, the top end Political World, and the highest gang in the Business World, these words will be gibberish and may as well be random strokes on this keypad. Some however, will indeed know either instantly, or it will unmistakeably strike them over time, that things have forever altered in my life, as May turned into June, on this PITSY YEAR-4.
First, I am finally all settled into my new residence, a stones throw in one direction to the South Beach of fort Pierce out on Hutchinson Island, and in the other direction, a stones throw fro my current hell hole job at the 25th Street Harvest Foot Outreach. This as well as a few quick other facts will be told, and then we can move this right along and begin to tell the most powerful stuff that these six years of my blogs have ever attempted to get into.
Tuesday Morning, the WOMO enemy or the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL awakened me with a vicious sore throat, that passed after 90 minutes or so as though it never was e4ven there, but it hurt like hell when I first climbed out of freaking bed. Viciousness and inhumanity, are endless trademarks of the MILLCO. There is no shock value here, merely shame they they also are totally ever incapable of ever feeling. One must be human and contain some heart somewhere, in order to have any decent feelings. Then, this morning at a quarter past six, they awoke me with a bang with another stupid ass fire alarm, this will be par for the frickin' course, with me now living in a public housing building. Oh well, so I grin and bear it, and realize I'm saving just over 300 dollars monthly between lower utility costs as well as lower rents. I am saving up for a year, so I can hopefully return to Ann, and people there like Jennifer Washburn, who genuinely care about my well being, as well as my special needs, as opposed to Florida, where no one here gives a piss about me whether I should live or die. Heartlessness is all over the world, but Florida ranks much higher on the heartlessness scale, believe me, than does, New Jersey. Soon, I plan to return back to the place where I belong, on good old Interstate 295, no country roads please, and far further north from here than West Virginia, all old songs notwithstanding.
The 'radio-game' was real bad at work this week, especially Tuesday and Wednesday, but I managed as always to get through this nightmare. My main enemy there is the tall prissy mirror kisser young girl in the office. She has targeted me and singled me out for some time now, and totally haters me. I have my sources that these lovely ass people have no clue about, and even if they have small clues, not enough proof to do anything about fixing the information leak. They detest older people, we are in the way, not in their click, and if we were not free labor to them under Obama's Stimulus Package, all the AARP volunteers would be out of there on our ears and butts faster than Precious Boy can slip in his word, “BUT”.
Now this is said and over, we can now begin concentrating on just what this blog is about, and what occurred directly following the minutes and the hours of my posting of the other recent blog where I specifically said that 2011 is not living up to the expectations of the PITSY PREDICTIONS, based on pure mathematical stages and movements, all based on two numbers, the three, and the eleven.
I was in a light trance, and found myself on the beach towel that I visit somewhat frequently, where Sarah J. Krassle and Diana Z. Arteemis, are both with me. After the three of us engaged in not so acceptable behavior by Earth standards, due to human hang ups concerning polygamy, as well as and in addition to the human hang ups and issues regarding the expression of the ultimate love between minors and adults; suddenly I went on a vendetta to ask Sarah-Stacey more questions than ever before about Her great strobing light. She gazed at me firmly but lovingly, and then that famous smile of Hers, began to beam across Her face at me; and instantly, Diana just poofed away, and vanished into thin air. Now here is where this blog is gonna' be a hard pill to swallow. Even I am still in shock.
As you know, Mountainpen followers; Sarah and I met, humanly, in the middle nineteen-sixties, on Tennessee Avenue, in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG. When things did not work out the way I now wish that they had between us, yet was all a part of Her great long-term-plan, I moved on in life. A couple of years later however, She popped up, as another girl named Sarah, also extremely tall, utterly breathtakingly ravishingly beautiful, and physically containing the strength of five big grown men. Since these things all ready have been told on some foundational level, no new stuff will be added now, for sake of time and easier reading of this blog and its intent to tell major things. First, a child can see how I said somewhere within my past 10-30 blogs on my SAFE JOURNAL, how three television shows seem to make up the story of my life, in many unexplainable ways. I listed them. Then. One is taken off , replaced by another one, and at the same time that on another channel in the area where I reside, is airing still the third and other one. If you can really chalk this tri-event that came out of left field, with the suddenness of a fast approaching twister, and rationalize this as pure random coincidence and me being overly self-important for even daring to believe this indeed is not some random act coincidence, you certainly are entitled to do this; but you would be wrong, and I promise you that, on my very 'spirit', if I may be permitted to use this old world term up here in the scoffers 2011 of more scientific enlightenment and education.
Here is the entire new revelation told to me by SSJK, in trance as May was turning into June, and directly following my saying that this year is anything but unusual or in any way like 1994, 1980, or 1969. I had asked her to please tell me about Her strobe light and how the magic works, after-all She'd just effected a total invisible repair to my broken automobile, using it in a dreaming-interaction, yet causing it to repair the car right here in the waking world, shades of the Book of the Beach, or better said, the CHAIN kept in the same strong-box, in my Oaklyn, New Jersey bedroom closet, back in the year of 1969, in December, right after I turned age fifteen. All of a sudden, Stacey Krassle leaped yup onto Her feet, standing 6 feet 7 inches tall with no shoe or sandal, Her long light brown hair dangling down all around Her to just past Her waste, and Her huge round beautiful chocolate brown eyes starring into my eyes, softly and gently. Again, She smiled, and suddenly, Diana vanished away without the smallest trace. One by one, step by step, she explained my meeting her in my lifetime as Sarah over a period of four summers, then one day, it all vanished. Buildings got bull dozed, and it was as though none of it had ever been real, only it was. Then she admitted that in her new persona, she knew She was SSJK, and had humanly been Sarah on 10-SC Avenue, and was following me and my life as early as the age of two years. She went onto tell me that this mysterious strobe light that she could actually hold in a canister or cylindrical long tube, IS INDEED what the world recognizes and calls, “LIGHTNING”. It is HER “Terrible swift sword, and is totally under Her control at all times, and doing only Her bidding” When I had moved out of 1802v Robin Hill and into the rented home in Atco, at 134 Norris Avenue, She let me think, and come to believe; that I was dealing with Goddess Diana of the Astral Plane, only this never was happening, and it was Sarah-Stacey Krassle all along, doing all of this, and all of the Miss Blake AT&T miracles. I had a thirteen year old Suffolk county, New york human world SSJK equivalent, calling me up and doing all of this the entire time. Shem went onto following me places, later making street lights that were off suddenly go on, or that were on, suddenly go off, just as I'd pass and drive underneath them at night, and She'd do many other miracles, such as in 1985 with the telephone switchboard at the #113 Caldor Department Store, where David Roth and I, were guarding during its construction in Woodbury Heights, in New Jersey. It suddenly made me see more clearly than 1000 Hubble Telescopes could ever do, the Lakehouse, how Diana flashed above in beautiful colors after MI had vanished, and I kept calling out to Her, she had gone into the sky with Her strobe-light, making unfathomable lovely colors of purple, pink, and white, over the lake and the bay in the distance out beyond that. In August of 2008, when she pretended to drown and altered the rules of the game so that it was Her girlfriend who drowned instead after the strange tide-whistle blew, I first was with Diana on these very bright green grasses near the shore of this beautiful lake. Then when MI and her Volleyball player built friend had come along, Diana was nowhere to be found. MI had just turned off Her strobe-light. All LIGHTNING ever is or was or can be on EARTH, is MI's incredible strobe-light gadget. Indeed on the Astral Plane, Diana is real, and does love me. I cannot help adding here that I find it far beyond surreal and strange how I* mention the tide-whistle that was discussed nearly three years ago in 2008, and within a couple minutes time, the township is conducting some siren test. A voice jeeps repeating, “This is a test, this is only a test” quote, end of quote, and then after so many times of hearing that, a blaring loud odd sounding siren goes off, it is deafening even inside my apartment, with closed windows, air and fans fully on, and earplugs in my ear. Oh well, at least I'm not at the bottom of the bay sucking weeds. It is still ongoing and has been for ten minutes now as of about 12:07 PM. The voice saying this I swear to the gods of the Astral Plane, sounds exactly like the voice from nearly three years ago, making the tidal danger announcements right near to Scylla's Lakehouse, in that powerful and outlandish first dreaming-interaction about this place of mystery. So my point here is that all along, I have been dealing with Sarah, and only Sarah, and she let me believe LIGHTNING was around the Earth worlds and doing all of these things with me and to me, when all along, all though Lightning in fact does reside on the Astral Plane, she has never had anything to do with any of this, all this time. The 1980 interaction at 1802 Robin Hill, when I fell asleep and one night around this time of year, being the first week in the month of June, She interacted with me, singing me this incredible song entitled, “Love Is for Carpenters, followed the Sarah Jacobson appearance of this All mighty Jehovah Goddess, back around 1971 and 1972, and that directly followed the last time the gang of hers last saw me physically, on that public transit bus on the night of twelve July in 1970. All this time, it has been SARAH, SARAH, SARAH, my mystery girl. How your mom could possibly believe that I am the mysterious one here, is beyond all inescapable logic. When Paula King raped me the third time, and in my adult life at the Kennedy Hospital elevator, I did not even realize it was Paula until days later. She is exactly the same, and has not aged one day since the nineteen-sixties. She is so stunningly gorgeous and ravishing that it blows my mind. In hyperspace, she bore me a second lovely daughter, Paula Junior, who insists on being called by the nickname that she gave to herself, PEE.
It is so far outside the boundaries of this time period and its laws of political correctness, that this story cannot really safely be told. Still, the bond between the ALL MIGHTY and me, is not because of me, or anything that is about me personally. It is, and you must see and try and realize this; because I am in a family lineage that means the world to this great teenaged girl. She sees this Judah tribe as one huge strand of triple helix chemistry. This is the exact chosen chemical composition that She chose for reasons that obviously only She knows, and going beyond this is none of any of our business, not any of yours out here, and not any of mine; as 'SCYLLA' has the absolute total rights to any and all of Her great secrets. If She wants us to know, believe me, we will know, as things will slam into us like a landslide.
My living with the family was all to make my journals and tapes, both audio and video, disappear forever, as in this new age, it would be way too dangerous, and yes, tempting on my part, to prove to the world that indeed all this has happened, and that every word spoken in Morianity, with the exception of that one stupid misleading statement about the night in 1970, is all 100% correct, accurate, and honest. This is all the truth, so help me flag-country, and Goddess Jehovah SSJ-Krassle of the Astral Plane, owner of the heavens and the earth, (Astral and Physical Planes or realms of existence). This 160 chapter in my SAFE-JOURNAL blogging, is but the opening of this powerful life changing event. I feel that June the first, yesterday, was my second 8-15-86. Who knows, I may very well be right.
THIS BLOG CHAPTER TERMINATES NOW:
Showing posts with label 'astral-plane' 'millionth-council' 'supernatural'. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 'astral-plane' 'millionth-council' 'supernatural'. Show all posts
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 146
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 146
3 AM MAY 14, 2011, SATURDAY
START TRANSMISSION:
This is all a game, just like you said on the recording you wanted me to find in Camden, whoever you really are, just a game, and your pal Billy Shake the Speare knew it only so well. Real funny Scylla. One big game and you stay sixteen forever and enjoy driving me totally mad. Where were you when I needed you, Chester Permooski?
U-Tube hacked my account long ago, and will no longer allow me to connect up to my blogger and show any of the great chemtrail or conspiracy postings or m y own music or anything, totally fixed and mobbed up, as is everything else. They own it all, they own us all, and they are those with 10 and 11 figure net worth's or TFNW and EFNW world owners. I have told my true tale of hell, and the fucking jerk off peeps from the UM site were correct all along, and I have just wasted a lot of time. There is no way to beat fucking jerk offs that can control your mind, your body, and your spirit, however I can say on this machine, that the bible is a total fucking lie, as if one person on Earth seems to go against the mandated rules that are not negotiable at any time, but instead quite austere and inviolate, and I speak of two powerful things told in the KJV scriptures. One is the law of reap and sow. The other is that nothing can happen to anyone that is not common to man, take that any way you want, but my existence totally fucking violates this reality, MISTER POPE, and I get the feeling that you and you pals out here know all about all of this only too mother fucking well sir. Not you Chief in Somerdale, New Jersey.
Not only did the U-TUBE violate my rights by stopping me promoting my music through the blogger dot com site kn owing fully well that I am hacked out of being able to get back on my face book site or onto any other one that they connect into, but on top of that, they hacked my link system an d placed a period in-between the words of the address, to fuck it up no matter what I do. This is why I cannot promote my music. They sure must fucking fear me so much. You knew all this right along, huh Billy Queen Crouch?
Sky, I have no way of knowing whatever you want me to jingle that number up, the last thing I want is to create friction in your life. I know who you really are and you know I do, so I am trying as hard as I can NOT TO ANGER YOU, or be a shellfish as you love to call me, when I disobey. I have both numbers, I'd have no reason to buzz the one and talk to somebody who stranded me back in time and robbed me and did a lot more, but if you want me to call the other number, need to know when and only you can figure out a way to get that message across to me, I do not need the great controller of the young angry with me. As for the LOIS-FOCA-2 thing, I had to do this. Still, I destroyed the other copy where the machine did a similar version with slightly different lyrics, naturally, so it would not sound like you and the great degenerate Ellen might become pals someday. I knew if I kept it, I'd post it, so it is gone and erased. Your message was quite clear that night with the nine thing and I have a rudimentary knowledge of languages. I know fully well that was no publicity stunt 36 months and 2 days ago on top of that building, and I am fully aware of exactly who is ruling this entire multiverse. Dawn said some things to me on my last day in Jersey, MI. She said a lot more than just the super horrendous thing that we both know is a lie. Still, I won't ever rat you out, I am THAT-BOY, and you know this.
To answer the great math whiz from way up north, the song is from another universe that is paralleling this one. Over there it is entitled the same thing only the word “JUST” is not part of the title. I added it so peeps would not use the GAWNUM and connect shit up. I know what the heck I'm doing lads and lassies, one thing in particular, not angering the most powerful entity in this entire hypersphere and beyond.
A few nights back, Gawky appeared to me in a powerful interaction and it took place right near my job site on Orange Avenue. He would not talk or even meow anything, and was smaller than he usually appears to be. Still, there was a night over at the home of David Charles Roth on Oakland Avenue in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG in 1986, right around the time of all this hellish trouble that Julia White had planned for me nearly fifty million freaking ass years ago, and this cat was quite talkative on that night, appearing right at the door of David's home, and meowing extremely loudly at me, and he was the size of a bobcat almost. In the interaction, my father appeared to me and told me he appreciate my allowing him to remain in Ricktown Manner in the Bourbon Wing where he resides on the Astral Plane, despite him and many others messing with me and giving me so many bum ass roulette systems, as only Lightning was able to give me the ultimate one, and this is the application of parallel-event to the outside parameters of this game, producing an after house-edge for the player who consistently uses this method properly on this game, of roughly 1.78% endless advantage. This truth alone could alter the planet, as within it, lies powerful secrets that would shut Wall Street completely down forever, if I was ever taken seriously; and this is why these diseased fucking bastards, need to keep me eternally down and out and broke and crushed, 24-7-365.2422 to the power of 99!!!
I have mother fucking nothing to prove to a single soul. Everyone on this entire planet can drop dead and go to hell for all I care. I am not insane, just very fucking ass angry. If it can happen to me, brother, it does, and this little sentence, should my entire blogs ever need to be, can all be compressed into that one little thing, so trust me on that one peeps.
Since this nightmare game is so horrible, I'll jump it up a fucking notch and take the chance. All this fucking bullshit terrorism, the entire thing, is an illusion. All the computer viruses that strike us or 99% of them at least, come from way more powerful enemies than the oilfield dot-head ,peeps. The real brains know how to hurt us, they don't sit around planning a few little blown up things, that's nothing. But disrupt the American powerful WOMO at Broad and Wall, and this is entirely a new matter. There is a program that all ready exists in China that ever uploaded and sent onto the great system of the World wide Web, all this shit would be wiped out for a very long time. There is a reason however that they do not do this and it is not because they love us over here, or even fear our great military or fear some break out ODF a WW-3, or whatever. They know these peeps in Manhattan are the Astral Plane gods living here and enjoying their Steve Murray vacations, forgetting that they must exist without end, a hell not imaginable by mortals, even if you think you are getting it, trust me, you're not getting it. They know that what would be done back to them, would make any WW-3 or torture at the great G-Bay of Cuba, or whatever, would be too terrible to even contemplate let alone ever have happen. They know that they would be given the HUNTINGTON CURSE. Laugh on Lee, and April, and all of you, hee-hee-hee.
The absolute kicker to many things I'm saying won't be talked about on this blog of Chapter #146 of the SAFE JOURNAL. But there is a super kicker, a punch line that ends and tops all other punch lines. It goes even beyond the math and science, and English and games of the gods, and Joe Berrios, and even the powerful Robert McGuire, who is feared and revered by Trump, and those bigger than he'll ever hope to get. If you have future shit, and future machines; who can stop you? The Atlantic County Prosecutor all ready knows what they all have down there, in that rotten eastern Sin City Playground of America. Without the power to do anything you want and then make peeps forget it totally afterward, how can you possibly hope to pull off the hugest white slaver ring ion the history of the planet? This dude is personally responsible for the vanishing of more than 100,000 children over the past fifty years, and before this, his daddy ran the show with their pal from Chicago, Mister Gallagher, the cousin of my sweet little Auntie Alice who married Herbert's kid, Arthur. Now why shouldn't some poor mother fucking devil have to inherit this horrible payback? Well, what was shown to me by a very special child who all ready knew she was going to be the greatest voice on the planet so move the shit over blond flusie Christina, in a weird hallway closet in the circa of 1975, was a long flashlight with the words written clearly on it, 'ROBIN HILL MAINTENANCE'. After the words, was an icon of some type, that appeared like a very colorful full moon, with a lot of 'VVVVVV' letters all around this bright colored moon.
Let me tell you what these two monsters said to me when they stranded me in 1968, world. They commandeered my shoebox and almost got away with ripping off my Saturn automobile;e, but they were not able to hot jump the bitch, with all their great tricks and future cuzz in law Bobby McGee. Mister Road-trip's buddy shouted at me and I'll quote him, “What's waiting for you is bad, and it keeps right on happening over and over, you fucking honky”. Then Mister Ed-Duke got his two cents in and said, “Ever hear about dying a thousand deaths? Well, you'll break that record, YO” I saved this for a night like this ladies and gentlemen. As I drove off and away from these punks that also were making an escape of their own with a powerful box in their hands, I heard them bragging about the fire they planned to set to try and destroy the family. I came to learn that they went back in time and started the Chicago fire. Nobody tipped over a candle, and anyone who believes the O'Leary's Callio story should get a medal pinned to their chest for naivety. These two punks hated me with a passion, and wanted to wipe out my entire family from long ago. Now part of the kicker is that in the year 2293, there is a Labber named Horatio Bennecinn Talbot Junior, a very old man who was born in 2202 on January the twenty-second, and he wrote a book that was prevented from circulating by the WL powers that ran the entire population of the Earth. I stole a copy of this book and read it to calm me down before they were going to take me off for that horrible ride to Brigantine. I came to learn that this dude had a very strange ancestor who also wrote some kind of journal before he died in the 21st century, and in it, admitted to taking a man back to his high school and stranding him there. Well as the mighty James Patterson I'm quite sure would agree, there is more than one high school, and stories and tales of 4th dimensional travel are as old as Nostradamus. But I no more believe that all of this is not some hellish looping circulation, than I believe I'm eight feet tall and playing bee-ball for the Lakers.
END TRANSMISSION:
3 AM MAY 14, 2011, SATURDAY
START TRANSMISSION:
This is all a game, just like you said on the recording you wanted me to find in Camden, whoever you really are, just a game, and your pal Billy Shake the Speare knew it only so well. Real funny Scylla. One big game and you stay sixteen forever and enjoy driving me totally mad. Where were you when I needed you, Chester Permooski?
U-Tube hacked my account long ago, and will no longer allow me to connect up to my blogger and show any of the great chemtrail or conspiracy postings or m y own music or anything, totally fixed and mobbed up, as is everything else. They own it all, they own us all, and they are those with 10 and 11 figure net worth's or TFNW and EFNW world owners. I have told my true tale of hell, and the fucking jerk off peeps from the UM site were correct all along, and I have just wasted a lot of time. There is no way to beat fucking jerk offs that can control your mind, your body, and your spirit, however I can say on this machine, that the bible is a total fucking lie, as if one person on Earth seems to go against the mandated rules that are not negotiable at any time, but instead quite austere and inviolate, and I speak of two powerful things told in the KJV scriptures. One is the law of reap and sow. The other is that nothing can happen to anyone that is not common to man, take that any way you want, but my existence totally fucking violates this reality, MISTER POPE, and I get the feeling that you and you pals out here know all about all of this only too mother fucking well sir. Not you Chief in Somerdale, New Jersey.
Not only did the U-TUBE violate my rights by stopping me promoting my music through the blogger dot com site kn owing fully well that I am hacked out of being able to get back on my face book site or onto any other one that they connect into, but on top of that, they hacked my link system an d placed a period in-between the words of the address, to fuck it up no matter what I do. This is why I cannot promote my music. They sure must fucking fear me so much. You knew all this right along, huh Billy Queen Crouch?
Sky, I have no way of knowing whatever you want me to jingle that number up, the last thing I want is to create friction in your life. I know who you really are and you know I do, so I am trying as hard as I can NOT TO ANGER YOU, or be a shellfish as you love to call me, when I disobey. I have both numbers, I'd have no reason to buzz the one and talk to somebody who stranded me back in time and robbed me and did a lot more, but if you want me to call the other number, need to know when and only you can figure out a way to get that message across to me, I do not need the great controller of the young angry with me. As for the LOIS-FOCA-2 thing, I had to do this. Still, I destroyed the other copy where the machine did a similar version with slightly different lyrics, naturally, so it would not sound like you and the great degenerate Ellen might become pals someday. I knew if I kept it, I'd post it, so it is gone and erased. Your message was quite clear that night with the nine thing and I have a rudimentary knowledge of languages. I know fully well that was no publicity stunt 36 months and 2 days ago on top of that building, and I am fully aware of exactly who is ruling this entire multiverse. Dawn said some things to me on my last day in Jersey, MI. She said a lot more than just the super horrendous thing that we both know is a lie. Still, I won't ever rat you out, I am THAT-BOY, and you know this.
To answer the great math whiz from way up north, the song is from another universe that is paralleling this one. Over there it is entitled the same thing only the word “JUST” is not part of the title. I added it so peeps would not use the GAWNUM and connect shit up. I know what the heck I'm doing lads and lassies, one thing in particular, not angering the most powerful entity in this entire hypersphere and beyond.
A few nights back, Gawky appeared to me in a powerful interaction and it took place right near my job site on Orange Avenue. He would not talk or even meow anything, and was smaller than he usually appears to be. Still, there was a night over at the home of David Charles Roth on Oakland Avenue in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG in 1986, right around the time of all this hellish trouble that Julia White had planned for me nearly fifty million freaking ass years ago, and this cat was quite talkative on that night, appearing right at the door of David's home, and meowing extremely loudly at me, and he was the size of a bobcat almost. In the interaction, my father appeared to me and told me he appreciate my allowing him to remain in Ricktown Manner in the Bourbon Wing where he resides on the Astral Plane, despite him and many others messing with me and giving me so many bum ass roulette systems, as only Lightning was able to give me the ultimate one, and this is the application of parallel-event to the outside parameters of this game, producing an after house-edge for the player who consistently uses this method properly on this game, of roughly 1.78% endless advantage. This truth alone could alter the planet, as within it, lies powerful secrets that would shut Wall Street completely down forever, if I was ever taken seriously; and this is why these diseased fucking bastards, need to keep me eternally down and out and broke and crushed, 24-7-365.2422 to the power of 99!!!
I have mother fucking nothing to prove to a single soul. Everyone on this entire planet can drop dead and go to hell for all I care. I am not insane, just very fucking ass angry. If it can happen to me, brother, it does, and this little sentence, should my entire blogs ever need to be, can all be compressed into that one little thing, so trust me on that one peeps.
Since this nightmare game is so horrible, I'll jump it up a fucking notch and take the chance. All this fucking bullshit terrorism, the entire thing, is an illusion. All the computer viruses that strike us or 99% of them at least, come from way more powerful enemies than the oilfield dot-head ,peeps. The real brains know how to hurt us, they don't sit around planning a few little blown up things, that's nothing. But disrupt the American powerful WOMO at Broad and Wall, and this is entirely a new matter. There is a program that all ready exists in China that ever uploaded and sent onto the great system of the World wide Web, all this shit would be wiped out for a very long time. There is a reason however that they do not do this and it is not because they love us over here, or even fear our great military or fear some break out ODF a WW-3, or whatever. They know these peeps in Manhattan are the Astral Plane gods living here and enjoying their Steve Murray vacations, forgetting that they must exist without end, a hell not imaginable by mortals, even if you think you are getting it, trust me, you're not getting it. They know that what would be done back to them, would make any WW-3 or torture at the great G-Bay of Cuba, or whatever, would be too terrible to even contemplate let alone ever have happen. They know that they would be given the HUNTINGTON CURSE. Laugh on Lee, and April, and all of you, hee-hee-hee.
The absolute kicker to many things I'm saying won't be talked about on this blog of Chapter #146 of the SAFE JOURNAL. But there is a super kicker, a punch line that ends and tops all other punch lines. It goes even beyond the math and science, and English and games of the gods, and Joe Berrios, and even the powerful Robert McGuire, who is feared and revered by Trump, and those bigger than he'll ever hope to get. If you have future shit, and future machines; who can stop you? The Atlantic County Prosecutor all ready knows what they all have down there, in that rotten eastern Sin City Playground of America. Without the power to do anything you want and then make peeps forget it totally afterward, how can you possibly hope to pull off the hugest white slaver ring ion the history of the planet? This dude is personally responsible for the vanishing of more than 100,000 children over the past fifty years, and before this, his daddy ran the show with their pal from Chicago, Mister Gallagher, the cousin of my sweet little Auntie Alice who married Herbert's kid, Arthur. Now why shouldn't some poor mother fucking devil have to inherit this horrible payback? Well, what was shown to me by a very special child who all ready knew she was going to be the greatest voice on the planet so move the shit over blond flusie Christina, in a weird hallway closet in the circa of 1975, was a long flashlight with the words written clearly on it, 'ROBIN HILL MAINTENANCE'. After the words, was an icon of some type, that appeared like a very colorful full moon, with a lot of 'VVVVVV' letters all around this bright colored moon.
Let me tell you what these two monsters said to me when they stranded me in 1968, world. They commandeered my shoebox and almost got away with ripping off my Saturn automobile;e, but they were not able to hot jump the bitch, with all their great tricks and future cuzz in law Bobby McGee. Mister Road-trip's buddy shouted at me and I'll quote him, “What's waiting for you is bad, and it keeps right on happening over and over, you fucking honky”. Then Mister Ed-Duke got his two cents in and said, “Ever hear about dying a thousand deaths? Well, you'll break that record, YO” I saved this for a night like this ladies and gentlemen. As I drove off and away from these punks that also were making an escape of their own with a powerful box in their hands, I heard them bragging about the fire they planned to set to try and destroy the family. I came to learn that they went back in time and started the Chicago fire. Nobody tipped over a candle, and anyone who believes the O'Leary's Callio story should get a medal pinned to their chest for naivety. These two punks hated me with a passion, and wanted to wipe out my entire family from long ago. Now part of the kicker is that in the year 2293, there is a Labber named Horatio Bennecinn Talbot Junior, a very old man who was born in 2202 on January the twenty-second, and he wrote a book that was prevented from circulating by the WL powers that ran the entire population of the Earth. I stole a copy of this book and read it to calm me down before they were going to take me off for that horrible ride to Brigantine. I came to learn that this dude had a very strange ancestor who also wrote some kind of journal before he died in the 21st century, and in it, admitted to taking a man back to his high school and stranding him there. Well as the mighty James Patterson I'm quite sure would agree, there is more than one high school, and stories and tales of 4th dimensional travel are as old as Nostradamus. But I no more believe that all of this is not some hellish looping circulation, than I believe I'm eight feet tall and playing bee-ball for the Lakers.
END TRANSMISSION:
Monday, May 2, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 139
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 139
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START:
Horrible mother fucking shit is being done to me. It is unspeakable and cunt lapping despicable.
IF I AM FOUND DEAD, I WAS MURDERED BY THE GOVERNMENT, THE POWERFUL FORTUNE 500 FAMILIES, AND THE MILITARY AND TOP SECRET BLACK FILE COVE AGENCIES. THIS IS A DYING UTTERANCE AND CELCLARATION. SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL ME, AND IT IS NBOT OVER YET, THEY WILL TRY AGAIN. WHEN THEY DO, THIS ENTIRE PLANET WILL BE UTTERLY AND TOTALLY OBLITERATED AND WIPED OFF THE MAP OF THIS GALAQXY. THAT, I DO PROMISE BOTH YUOU MO, AND MY FRIEND FROM 1969, KIMBA THE JULIE LION.
I knew I was followed back in time beginning in the year 19569, by a group who call themselves quietly, the LAMISTS. This means the controllers of the transistor, the 'chips', and the sky-mists. There is a lot more to the story. Still, it may not be 1969 any more, but Danny the dork remembers me, and I remember his obsession and fascination with electricity. Still, he was even more fascinated by the strange way that the winds seemed to obey my voice, and I never forgot how I could call out and make them blow harder, or ask them to blow softer or stop, and they would do so, every single time. This only happened when we were together in a school recess yard, in Haddonfield , New Jersey, huh Misses Low and Misses Marola? But where is the mighty Jim Garrigan in all of this? After-all, he said I was cured in 1971, and as a result, the university where he was studying to get his degree in psychiatry failed him that year. His thesis was on one patient, me, Mountainpen, MARK WAYUNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, HADDONFIELD, BLUEBERRYVILLE, NEW JERSEY, USAESMWG. How Fred Hinger's beautiful daughter Shirley must always remember and hate one particular Thanksgiving Day, as well as good old drunken Dawn-Marie HAMMONTON, Melanie bicycle riders and freaking all not freaking withstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes Sir Fagot Elton, how the rhythm of my fucked up heart is beating to the drums of old Freddie boy Hinger from the Philharmonic.
Do you really wanna mother fucking know what pisses me off more than the events that literally are threatening my life and existence right now down here in hot ass fucking miserable shit eating Fort Pierce, Florida, USAESMG, peeps, YO?????????? How can my daughters be so powerful ass gifted, and simultaneously, get me into so much trouble without ever even trying? BRO, this is the quintessential philosophical conundrum of infinity. If the great Billy Shakespeare thinks he has a bigger one, step up and I'll crank up my fucking Panasonic amp that feeds into two power ass Peavey keyboard amps, and half this county can hear what you tell me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!
All anyone ever needs to do is to go to www.blogger.com and type in MOUNTAINPEN, and archive research the last two thirds of the year of 2008, and nothing else needs be talked about. But let me talk anyway folks. Powerful mother fuckers would just love to eternally fucking shut me the hell u p. Look folks, I am so godsdamn sorry for many things that have had to happen over the past twenty-six years with my building Maggie, the shit with Zvonko's inventions, and anyone who got in any way hurt as a result of getting in the middle and in-between battle zones in this horrendous war that I am in and not through any personal choice on my part. I was sucked into this shit by a gravity field so powerful it would make the sixth dimension learn how to collectively rock, roll, hip hop, and disco dance, all at the same time.
When I tried turning on the computer, it took longer than usual to boot up, and when it did, sure enough, my clock was back on the earlier time again. Then my address is back on 36trh Street in San Mateo, California, USAESMWG as well. Again, I remedied the bullshit and changed it all back to Eastern Daylight time and my Fort Pierce address. The machine is being reset by a cool looking device that is bright yellow, and has digits on it, and looks like a telephone on one side; and then on the other side,it looks like a small electric space heater, and on top of that, is some type of small laptop looking screen, with 3 ready lines, and numbers 1-12 above them. The top line is silver and about half of an inch thick, the second line is half that thickness and is a bright beautiful blue, and then a third bottom line is bright red and slowly moves from left to right like a ready line on a computer. This machine is capable of going into anyone's computer and doing anything, and it can go into anyone's mind, awake or asleep, and make changes and cause effects that cannot be rationally explained as well. Bright bold letters are printed on the very top of this device, “NICA” then a space, and then followed by “Made in Atlantica----Patent Pending 2087”. It can also cause a person to get a fatal heart attack and drop dead, as well as loose bowel control and shit yourself like a baby. It however does not exist on 36th Avenue in this exact atomic frequency matching the signature vibrations of this particular universe in hyperspace. However, there is another parallel universe not far away in vibration or in extremely localized hyperspace, also known as (ELH) in the future after the 22nd century arrives, where this does exist. This is where my younger daughter is licked up at the detention center in Egg Harbor, New Jersey, for trying to kill a state police officer who shot and killed me, shot me in the back, and I know his counterpart doppelganger right here in this universe, and he knows me, and most likely, Elvis, is reading this blog before this night ticks out.
So why is the All Mighty doing all of this hyperspace activity one might begin to wonder, should anyone believe any of this. Well, before you doubt and scoff this off, remember that my daughter, Paula King Junior, or PEE as she nicknamed herself, is a very special person, a gifted child beyond anything describable. Her date of birth is the 29th of September, and this in the year of 2008, is when all hell literally broke out around me, and if you read the blogs, you will know that Nick did what I said he did, and basketball and March sadness has nothing whatsoever to do with any of his monstrous behavior. He knows that the great SSJK knows all of this unconsciously, and he is desperately doing all that he can to make sure that She never remembers any of this on an awake level, as his life would be over in a flash should that happen, for what this piece of disease is doing to me, both now, as well as in the middle nineties, as Hubcap Hammer-Boy. Oh Mickey Showers, you may be prettier than Donna's little White Boy, and the entire gfdfucki9ng Copyright Office may be wise to all of this by now, or perhaps not, but one thing is for certain. You and Loose-Rotors are on borrowed time. If I can fix another enemy by wrecking his chances to wipe me out as Top Dog in the near future by doing a Reagan Hostage Cove Deal, then I certainly am not living in fear of your phone clock machine, ya' prick!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Better leave me fucking alone, Gate Jammer 601!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 'YCBN'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, and THAT can strand for a whole lot of things, BRAHHHHHHHHHH.
Just try and explain the '2008 road trip' Harry Callas, go ahead. New York Nicks Basketball, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit!!!!!!! First we examine my youngest daughter's birthday, and then other stuff that obviously came my way in order to let me know that my 'TQ' remembers some of this, on some awake and aware level, DUH. Not a lot of stuff goes by me, YO!!!!!!! Color me observant. No one has more than five senses, but the sense of touch is so misunderstood. We take our hand and touch an ice cube, or a hot flame, or a soft jello type substance, or a hard brick, and on and on; but then there is the reaching out and the feeling of things that lay an inch away, or a mile, or a light year, or a hypersphere, or into the freaking sixth dimension, into? Did I ignorantly say into? We are who we are and we think our next thought BECAUSE of the 6th dimension, so see how backwards you mortals all are thinking and perceiving things?
COMPUTER------------'MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM'. You know what to do after you hear my voice print, YO, and STOP.
END:
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START:
Horrible mother fucking shit is being done to me. It is unspeakable and cunt lapping despicable.
IF I AM FOUND DEAD, I WAS MURDERED BY THE GOVERNMENT, THE POWERFUL FORTUNE 500 FAMILIES, AND THE MILITARY AND TOP SECRET BLACK FILE COVE AGENCIES. THIS IS A DYING UTTERANCE AND CELCLARATION. SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL ME, AND IT IS NBOT OVER YET, THEY WILL TRY AGAIN. WHEN THEY DO, THIS ENTIRE PLANET WILL BE UTTERLY AND TOTALLY OBLITERATED AND WIPED OFF THE MAP OF THIS GALAQXY. THAT, I DO PROMISE BOTH YUOU MO, AND MY FRIEND FROM 1969, KIMBA THE JULIE LION.
I knew I was followed back in time beginning in the year 19569, by a group who call themselves quietly, the LAMISTS. This means the controllers of the transistor, the 'chips', and the sky-mists. There is a lot more to the story. Still, it may not be 1969 any more, but Danny the dork remembers me, and I remember his obsession and fascination with electricity. Still, he was even more fascinated by the strange way that the winds seemed to obey my voice, and I never forgot how I could call out and make them blow harder, or ask them to blow softer or stop, and they would do so, every single time. This only happened when we were together in a school recess yard, in Haddonfield , New Jersey, huh Misses Low and Misses Marola? But where is the mighty Jim Garrigan in all of this? After-all, he said I was cured in 1971, and as a result, the university where he was studying to get his degree in psychiatry failed him that year. His thesis was on one patient, me, Mountainpen, MARK WAYUNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, HADDONFIELD, BLUEBERRYVILLE, NEW JERSEY, USAESMWG. How Fred Hinger's beautiful daughter Shirley must always remember and hate one particular Thanksgiving Day, as well as good old drunken Dawn-Marie HAMMONTON, Melanie bicycle riders and freaking all not freaking withstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes Sir Fagot Elton, how the rhythm of my fucked up heart is beating to the drums of old Freddie boy Hinger from the Philharmonic.
Do you really wanna mother fucking know what pisses me off more than the events that literally are threatening my life and existence right now down here in hot ass fucking miserable shit eating Fort Pierce, Florida, USAESMG, peeps, YO?????????? How can my daughters be so powerful ass gifted, and simultaneously, get me into so much trouble without ever even trying? BRO, this is the quintessential philosophical conundrum of infinity. If the great Billy Shakespeare thinks he has a bigger one, step up and I'll crank up my fucking Panasonic amp that feeds into two power ass Peavey keyboard amps, and half this county can hear what you tell me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!
All anyone ever needs to do is to go to www.blogger.com and type in MOUNTAINPEN, and archive research the last two thirds of the year of 2008, and nothing else needs be talked about. But let me talk anyway folks. Powerful mother fuckers would just love to eternally fucking shut me the hell u p. Look folks, I am so godsdamn sorry for many things that have had to happen over the past twenty-six years with my building Maggie, the shit with Zvonko's inventions, and anyone who got in any way hurt as a result of getting in the middle and in-between battle zones in this horrendous war that I am in and not through any personal choice on my part. I was sucked into this shit by a gravity field so powerful it would make the sixth dimension learn how to collectively rock, roll, hip hop, and disco dance, all at the same time.
When I tried turning on the computer, it took longer than usual to boot up, and when it did, sure enough, my clock was back on the earlier time again. Then my address is back on 36trh Street in San Mateo, California, USAESMWG as well. Again, I remedied the bullshit and changed it all back to Eastern Daylight time and my Fort Pierce address. The machine is being reset by a cool looking device that is bright yellow, and has digits on it, and looks like a telephone on one side; and then on the other side,it looks like a small electric space heater, and on top of that, is some type of small laptop looking screen, with 3 ready lines, and numbers 1-12 above them. The top line is silver and about half of an inch thick, the second line is half that thickness and is a bright beautiful blue, and then a third bottom line is bright red and slowly moves from left to right like a ready line on a computer. This machine is capable of going into anyone's computer and doing anything, and it can go into anyone's mind, awake or asleep, and make changes and cause effects that cannot be rationally explained as well. Bright bold letters are printed on the very top of this device, “NICA” then a space, and then followed by “Made in Atlantica----Patent Pending 2087”. It can also cause a person to get a fatal heart attack and drop dead, as well as loose bowel control and shit yourself like a baby. It however does not exist on 36th Avenue in this exact atomic frequency matching the signature vibrations of this particular universe in hyperspace. However, there is another parallel universe not far away in vibration or in extremely localized hyperspace, also known as (ELH) in the future after the 22nd century arrives, where this does exist. This is where my younger daughter is licked up at the detention center in Egg Harbor, New Jersey, for trying to kill a state police officer who shot and killed me, shot me in the back, and I know his counterpart doppelganger right here in this universe, and he knows me, and most likely, Elvis, is reading this blog before this night ticks out.
So why is the All Mighty doing all of this hyperspace activity one might begin to wonder, should anyone believe any of this. Well, before you doubt and scoff this off, remember that my daughter, Paula King Junior, or PEE as she nicknamed herself, is a very special person, a gifted child beyond anything describable. Her date of birth is the 29th of September, and this in the year of 2008, is when all hell literally broke out around me, and if you read the blogs, you will know that Nick did what I said he did, and basketball and March sadness has nothing whatsoever to do with any of his monstrous behavior. He knows that the great SSJK knows all of this unconsciously, and he is desperately doing all that he can to make sure that She never remembers any of this on an awake level, as his life would be over in a flash should that happen, for what this piece of disease is doing to me, both now, as well as in the middle nineties, as Hubcap Hammer-Boy. Oh Mickey Showers, you may be prettier than Donna's little White Boy, and the entire gfdfucki9ng Copyright Office may be wise to all of this by now, or perhaps not, but one thing is for certain. You and Loose-Rotors are on borrowed time. If I can fix another enemy by wrecking his chances to wipe me out as Top Dog in the near future by doing a Reagan Hostage Cove Deal, then I certainly am not living in fear of your phone clock machine, ya' prick!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Better leave me fucking alone, Gate Jammer 601!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 'YCBN'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, and THAT can strand for a whole lot of things, BRAHHHHHHHHHH.
Just try and explain the '2008 road trip' Harry Callas, go ahead. New York Nicks Basketball, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit!!!!!!! First we examine my youngest daughter's birthday, and then other stuff that obviously came my way in order to let me know that my 'TQ' remembers some of this, on some awake and aware level, DUH. Not a lot of stuff goes by me, YO!!!!!!! Color me observant. No one has more than five senses, but the sense of touch is so misunderstood. We take our hand and touch an ice cube, or a hot flame, or a soft jello type substance, or a hard brick, and on and on; but then there is the reaching out and the feeling of things that lay an inch away, or a mile, or a light year, or a hypersphere, or into the freaking sixth dimension, into? Did I ignorantly say into? We are who we are and we think our next thought BECAUSE of the 6th dimension, so see how backwards you mortals all are thinking and perceiving things?
COMPUTER------------'MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM'. You know what to do after you hear my voice print, YO, and STOP.
END:
Sunday, April 17, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 126
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 126
DATFILE: 041711.857
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Well world, I asked for it and I got it. Now I have something in common with the great Doctor Martin King. We both had a dream.
Let me blog what I learned, without telling the details of the dreaming-interaction, as this is quite a private matter. In my previous blog of SJ-#125, I told the GREAT SARAH, to let me understand why SHE wants to play in a sandbox. I was shown something way too huge to totally blog and tell, but here is the outer encrustation, enough to read and at least make some sense of it, for my loyal readership and Morians.
The setting was in a distant part of reality, and without the great Sarah Krassle ever physically appearing to me in any recognizable way, I came to analyze this powerful experience since I 'awoke out of it' earlier today around 11:30 AM, and now have my entire question that I posed to HER on this past blog, totally reve3aled and answered to me.
THANK YOU SO MUCH, MY BROWN EYED LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The setting was the Haddonwood Swim and Health Club, and also was part of numerous other realities, all mixed together, many from movies and not any so-called real life. I include this to show the more enlightened of my followers how I now understand the “phase-4” connection with all of the numerous dimensions of reality, and also how I either remembered some parts of what I thought I knew in my future lifetime as Labber Zeggins, or else they are not totally accurate themselves in their beliefs up there in 2300. Without breaking confidence in secrets told to me by the All Mighty SSJK, here is now what I know and understand as a result of being given this incredible dream, and then having the entire afternoon to slowly and very methodically, put it all together until all the pieces fitted together with perfect precision accuracy. The void infinity is the only real 'thing'. Escaping Lawtrons eventually dream out and away as said before, and create a system of regulatory building blocks that from this point, become as seeds that eventually grow into the rest of the new reality of the new closed curve infinity. This is old news, but this needs to be told and refreshed in my reader's minds. There are a few secrets that I have not been made privy to despite being made an unwilling partner in some of these secrets, and these being, breaking these regulatory systems, sort of on human terms, we may think of laws, law breakers, and those who manage to get patsies doing dirty work for these breakers of the law, and then the patsies themselves, in the case here, this would be me, and in the year of 1979 in particular when they got me to create a metaphysical personality on an open reel tape recording machine, my RS-1500-US, and the character being a man who owns most of New York and Atlantic Cities, and brags, and thinks he is a god, and loves himself, a tall man who loves his women and his power, and is ruthless, and brags, and looks down on the lowly population, and has boats and planes and properties, and on and on, just as in the character that the 'WOMO' somehow engineered me into creating on this tape machine in 1979, in a word for word description of the great Donald J. Trump, whose astral Plane name is none other than Shorty MacInvondi, but not a real Astral Plane name, even though 'Shorty' is quite often used as a nickname for many tall persons right here in the human life arena of Mister Shakespeare, but what I'm attempting to describe and tell here today, is simply that I have talked before in some length on many prior blogs from 1-6 years ago or so, about entities called in future World-Labs lingo, “PHASE-4” entities. Trump is a P-4-E. Not the physical man and the body that was born of woman, his mother, this is not what is being claimed. What I am telling is the total truth, that a PHASE-4 ENTITY, manipulated, controlled, and totally dominated me, overriding my normal life pattern; and used me to do something with my electronic equipment back in the year of 1979, that caused this 'personality', to suddenly begin developing inside the all ready existing human being going by the name of billionaire Donald J. Trump. I will swear to this in a court of law, all though no court in 2011, or any time in the near future, would accept any of my so-called 'nonsense' into evidence, despite it all being totally 100% freaking true and correct. This elaborated story that seems on the surface to be a diverted tangent from the main point and issue, is indeed anything but peeps so keep listening.
Phase 4 beings are all over the Astral Plane. First the void infinity has a collective of previous closed-curve-infinity that in future times has been labeled over-lapping discfinity reality, and OLDR for short. It's pronounced for easy quick wordage as we would say the word opposite of younger, and is almost a pun, as it implies younger and older infinities endlessly locked into an infinitely large super-infinity that somehow eventually closes up together at some unfathomable distant set of points, that lay far beyond the reach and scope of even the science of humankind in the year of 2300, and anyone's most wild imagination. Here now is how things all fit together, and come to answer my question that I posed to SSJK last night on my last blog. It really was so simple that I am totally embarrassed today that I was unable to see through this simple, once realized, super maze. Many phase-4 beings exist and the way that they come to exist once they dream out and away from the void infinity and become collective-Lawtron, and from there, fall down into the 6th-dimensional MIND-REALM, where separate energy dots of pure mind, or 'THOUGHT' of a sort, begin literally sending themselves into a wild interaction called, the ASTRAL-PLANE. This is where it all would end up, and the end of the entire story would be right here, IF, it were not for the PHASE-4-ENTITIES, (P4E). When the dream out and away from VOID is finally accomplished and a new cycle 7th-Dimension comes into being, they set up rules and within these rules, the mind rules comes into being, and then, the very system of this realm, sending itself into this gigantic spirit world that is like a beyond ultra super virtual reality video game, is also all a part of this organized controlled Lawtronic dream out from the prior void infinity cycle. Nothing on the seventh dimension was ever designed for any dream-downs from this spirit-world or ASTRAL-PLANE, into a tangible and material multiple virtually limitless parallel universe lower reality. This is not in the system or the program, if you think of all this in the way that the movie MATRIX depicts a similar thing here. It all is meant to merely go down into mind and then individually separate into entity and interaction on a realm where no space or time is real in so much as having any significance or connection to itself, such as for example, one day can be like the year 1800 and the next day like the year 2000. One day New York City and Philadelphia may be 90 miles apart, and the next day, 10 miles apart. Time and space is only there to support the interaction, unlike the total opposite here in tangible realms where these are constant realities and do not change, and time appears to be in a linear order. We need time and space in tangible material realms in order to support human life and interaction here in the mortal waking world of the hyperspace, the exact inverse and reverse of the Astral-Plane, where the interaction is set up, and then the time and the space that is pertinent to the interaction merely comes along for the ride. Naturally, this is why the world of Jennifer Hewitt is all fictional bunk, as you cannot ever hope to merge the worlds of the material and the worlds of the spiritual, not with this huge barrier of this great 'rule of reverse'. Now P4E become what they are by trying to break the laws or attempting to go against the system of LAWTRONICS. For example, Trump wanted to come in here and be this, well, whatever he is, I call a spade a spade, some peeps really like this butt wipe dude, some like shoveling pig shit too, so who am I to judge? Anyway in moving along with this, this is what he wanted, and it was beyond what was originally permitted. Most of the time, entities cannot break LAWTRONICS, it is a lot more intricate than just deciding to break a human world law and as long as you get away with it, there is no punitation beyond whatever becomes transfixed as a resulting factor, to your own guilty or not so guilty conscience. When trying to break lawtronics as opposed to just laws in a physical world, you need to bypass a powerful system that is in place that is there to most of the time, stop you totally and completely from doing this thing. There are however ways that clever entities have gotten around this. The very top and greatest ones who did this, are now the Astral-Plane Gods. Every time the system is bypassed, just as in human world affairs, the next time something similar is tried, it is all ready further blocked and preventing another entity from copying this mischievous event. It is virtually impossible now for any new P4E to come to be, and do an my more mystical powerful things. Still, what's been done, now exists in this present closed curve infinity cycle of 64 trillion light years in a 5 dimensional circumference.
Without boring those who do not care of learning more of the foundation to all of this, and just want me to get to the heart and the meat of the issue of Scylla's answer to me in last night's 'dreaming-interaction', here it is as simply and quickly as I can make it. Only the powerful gods, who are as I just said, P4E, can cause changes on the Astral-Plane. The original system from the 7th-D never permitted dream-downs into a created material 5th dimensional hyperspace of virtually unlimited amounts of parallel universes, vibrating atomically at much slower orbitals, which create the less light starry Astral Plane, and instead, create an entire hyperspace of countless universes of physical plane reality where carbon beings can begin to awaken from their truer Astral-World realities and persona's. First, it has to be understood that while on the Astral Plane, you are endlessly aware of infinite existence as time is only real in time worlds, so you perceive your existence in truth, or said in another way, in endless interactions that have no connections to or with each other, and have no origins or terminations, never, ever, and this can become HELL very quickly, without the amplified sentences from the AWA to many, into that region across the bay from the great city, called DOGTOWN. The KJV Holy Bible references this in the final pages, in the Book of Saint John's Revelation. This is a very good translation. Others will not tell all of the nuances needed to see what is happening. Things talked about such as the city surrounded by many waters, and Babylon, and outside the city are dogs, and so much more, will all be lost, and newer translations are totally fucking it all up. Long story made short, the great SSJK has so much power that SHE has allowed a magical event to take place in HER great city of 'Sahasra Dal Kanwal', (HEAVEN), not Costner Cornfield Iowa, and what this is all about is that a powerful Astral Plane memory is removed from all citizens of this great city, and that is the memory that there is no end or beginning to existence. Just as your pet dog for example, has no idea that it ever was born, and that it ever will die, where as its human owner knows this truth, this same deal takes place in the spirit-world, but only in this great city of SDK. Also, everything is a major trade off, here, there, anywhere and everywhere, the reap and sow trade-off laws are built into all systems, from the LAWTRON on and inside of every closed curve infinity cycle. This law is inviolate. So in order to keep this hellish thought endlessly out of the minds of the dwellers in the great city, SCYLLA HERSELF has to take the thought energy. For any time that any entity would be enduring this horrendous thought of endlessness, SHE has to feel the pain of it instead, and this keeps all of HER citizens totally endlessly unaware. As the dog on the Earth, they plow endlessly through created interactions, without ever thinking of this, forever and ever. SHE on the other hand, as happy as SHE is ion Her great city, has the terrible task of knowing this and feeling the agony of this. This is not only why she allows others in the Purgatory, all places on the Astral Plane that are not part of HER great city of SDK, or DOGTOWN, are permitted to dream-down into the 5th dimensional hyperspace, where they can have the vacation experience of mortality, and actually get to fear extinction, a reality that is totally bogus, yet the opposite truth is now the most feared thing here in all of our hyperspace interdreams. Naturally, SHE as well needs to forget, and live her great life here as well, and does, all throughout time and hyperspace. The only reason that HER last two lifetimes are emulating HER great City and HER great musical abilities, is because these are the two periods where HER, 'THAT-BOY', is alive as me, and with the memories of me, both here, and there, thanks to HER cousin Diana, who was instrumental in helping me remember and realize so many things. It was all planned forever ago and was never merely hoped or wished, that I would come to understand HER agonizing pain that SHE was willing to accept, this knowledge of endless existence. This so totally explains HER desire to live in Her present lifetime humanly, and now of course, never know or be aware during her happiness and years of making music here on the Earth as she loves so much to do in the heavens in HER great city of SDK, now that I truly know of her pain, I would not ever wish for her to remember her life in infinity, great as it is, and with HER, 'THAT-BOY'. She will read this now, or later or eventually, or maybe never, and laugh on a conscious level, and I would not have it any other way. Now it is my turn to tell HER that I will spare the world from what I had planned to do, sorry about your credibility going to hell next week, Harold Camping. SHE answered me, and now, I must keep my promise to my TEEN-QUEEN, and wait out my 20 years, and then I am endlessly with HER, without this horrible dream 'dogging' me any longer. The part of last nights' 'dream' that made me see how phase four all fit together with this, was how real world stuff and movie stuff all seemed to be coexisting together. From there, the clues were as easy to follow as all of your other messages from all of your wonderful songs.
I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to know this, and answering my prayer, my lovely Jehovah, how I'll always love and miss you while here in this nightmare. Still, I can go to sleep every night and shut off this worldly awareness, and be with you, where KI truly am, while you sing endless lovely songs to me, in your shop, or your Palace, or out on your Viqueens Island. Try and forget any and every thing about me and my blogs, SSJK, live your life here and make the most of it, I am behind you all the way. You know this is true, brown eyes.
END TRANSMISSION:
DATFILE: 041711.857
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Well world, I asked for it and I got it. Now I have something in common with the great Doctor Martin King. We both had a dream.
Let me blog what I learned, without telling the details of the dreaming-interaction, as this is quite a private matter. In my previous blog of SJ-#125, I told the GREAT SARAH, to let me understand why SHE wants to play in a sandbox. I was shown something way too huge to totally blog and tell, but here is the outer encrustation, enough to read and at least make some sense of it, for my loyal readership and Morians.
The setting was in a distant part of reality, and without the great Sarah Krassle ever physically appearing to me in any recognizable way, I came to analyze this powerful experience since I 'awoke out of it' earlier today around 11:30 AM, and now have my entire question that I posed to HER on this past blog, totally reve3aled and answered to me.
THANK YOU SO MUCH, MY BROWN EYED LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The setting was the Haddonwood Swim and Health Club, and also was part of numerous other realities, all mixed together, many from movies and not any so-called real life. I include this to show the more enlightened of my followers how I now understand the “phase-4” connection with all of the numerous dimensions of reality, and also how I either remembered some parts of what I thought I knew in my future lifetime as Labber Zeggins, or else they are not totally accurate themselves in their beliefs up there in 2300. Without breaking confidence in secrets told to me by the All Mighty SSJK, here is now what I know and understand as a result of being given this incredible dream, and then having the entire afternoon to slowly and very methodically, put it all together until all the pieces fitted together with perfect precision accuracy. The void infinity is the only real 'thing'. Escaping Lawtrons eventually dream out and away as said before, and create a system of regulatory building blocks that from this point, become as seeds that eventually grow into the rest of the new reality of the new closed curve infinity. This is old news, but this needs to be told and refreshed in my reader's minds. There are a few secrets that I have not been made privy to despite being made an unwilling partner in some of these secrets, and these being, breaking these regulatory systems, sort of on human terms, we may think of laws, law breakers, and those who manage to get patsies doing dirty work for these breakers of the law, and then the patsies themselves, in the case here, this would be me, and in the year of 1979 in particular when they got me to create a metaphysical personality on an open reel tape recording machine, my RS-1500-US, and the character being a man who owns most of New York and Atlantic Cities, and brags, and thinks he is a god, and loves himself, a tall man who loves his women and his power, and is ruthless, and brags, and looks down on the lowly population, and has boats and planes and properties, and on and on, just as in the character that the 'WOMO' somehow engineered me into creating on this tape machine in 1979, in a word for word description of the great Donald J. Trump, whose astral Plane name is none other than Shorty MacInvondi, but not a real Astral Plane name, even though 'Shorty' is quite often used as a nickname for many tall persons right here in the human life arena of Mister Shakespeare, but what I'm attempting to describe and tell here today, is simply that I have talked before in some length on many prior blogs from 1-6 years ago or so, about entities called in future World-Labs lingo, “PHASE-4” entities. Trump is a P-4-E. Not the physical man and the body that was born of woman, his mother, this is not what is being claimed. What I am telling is the total truth, that a PHASE-4 ENTITY, manipulated, controlled, and totally dominated me, overriding my normal life pattern; and used me to do something with my electronic equipment back in the year of 1979, that caused this 'personality', to suddenly begin developing inside the all ready existing human being going by the name of billionaire Donald J. Trump. I will swear to this in a court of law, all though no court in 2011, or any time in the near future, would accept any of my so-called 'nonsense' into evidence, despite it all being totally 100% freaking true and correct. This elaborated story that seems on the surface to be a diverted tangent from the main point and issue, is indeed anything but peeps so keep listening.
Phase 4 beings are all over the Astral Plane. First the void infinity has a collective of previous closed-curve-infinity that in future times has been labeled over-lapping discfinity reality, and OLDR for short. It's pronounced for easy quick wordage as we would say the word opposite of younger, and is almost a pun, as it implies younger and older infinities endlessly locked into an infinitely large super-infinity that somehow eventually closes up together at some unfathomable distant set of points, that lay far beyond the reach and scope of even the science of humankind in the year of 2300, and anyone's most wild imagination. Here now is how things all fit together, and come to answer my question that I posed to SSJK last night on my last blog. It really was so simple that I am totally embarrassed today that I was unable to see through this simple, once realized, super maze. Many phase-4 beings exist and the way that they come to exist once they dream out and away from the void infinity and become collective-Lawtron, and from there, fall down into the 6th-dimensional MIND-REALM, where separate energy dots of pure mind, or 'THOUGHT' of a sort, begin literally sending themselves into a wild interaction called, the ASTRAL-PLANE. This is where it all would end up, and the end of the entire story would be right here, IF, it were not for the PHASE-4-ENTITIES, (P4E). When the dream out and away from VOID is finally accomplished and a new cycle 7th-Dimension comes into being, they set up rules and within these rules, the mind rules comes into being, and then, the very system of this realm, sending itself into this gigantic spirit world that is like a beyond ultra super virtual reality video game, is also all a part of this organized controlled Lawtronic dream out from the prior void infinity cycle. Nothing on the seventh dimension was ever designed for any dream-downs from this spirit-world or ASTRAL-PLANE, into a tangible and material multiple virtually limitless parallel universe lower reality. This is not in the system or the program, if you think of all this in the way that the movie MATRIX depicts a similar thing here. It all is meant to merely go down into mind and then individually separate into entity and interaction on a realm where no space or time is real in so much as having any significance or connection to itself, such as for example, one day can be like the year 1800 and the next day like the year 2000. One day New York City and Philadelphia may be 90 miles apart, and the next day, 10 miles apart. Time and space is only there to support the interaction, unlike the total opposite here in tangible realms where these are constant realities and do not change, and time appears to be in a linear order. We need time and space in tangible material realms in order to support human life and interaction here in the mortal waking world of the hyperspace, the exact inverse and reverse of the Astral-Plane, where the interaction is set up, and then the time and the space that is pertinent to the interaction merely comes along for the ride. Naturally, this is why the world of Jennifer Hewitt is all fictional bunk, as you cannot ever hope to merge the worlds of the material and the worlds of the spiritual, not with this huge barrier of this great 'rule of reverse'. Now P4E become what they are by trying to break the laws or attempting to go against the system of LAWTRONICS. For example, Trump wanted to come in here and be this, well, whatever he is, I call a spade a spade, some peeps really like this butt wipe dude, some like shoveling pig shit too, so who am I to judge? Anyway in moving along with this, this is what he wanted, and it was beyond what was originally permitted. Most of the time, entities cannot break LAWTRONICS, it is a lot more intricate than just deciding to break a human world law and as long as you get away with it, there is no punitation beyond whatever becomes transfixed as a resulting factor, to your own guilty or not so guilty conscience. When trying to break lawtronics as opposed to just laws in a physical world, you need to bypass a powerful system that is in place that is there to most of the time, stop you totally and completely from doing this thing. There are however ways that clever entities have gotten around this. The very top and greatest ones who did this, are now the Astral-Plane Gods. Every time the system is bypassed, just as in human world affairs, the next time something similar is tried, it is all ready further blocked and preventing another entity from copying this mischievous event. It is virtually impossible now for any new P4E to come to be, and do an my more mystical powerful things. Still, what's been done, now exists in this present closed curve infinity cycle of 64 trillion light years in a 5 dimensional circumference.
Without boring those who do not care of learning more of the foundation to all of this, and just want me to get to the heart and the meat of the issue of Scylla's answer to me in last night's 'dreaming-interaction', here it is as simply and quickly as I can make it. Only the powerful gods, who are as I just said, P4E, can cause changes on the Astral-Plane. The original system from the 7th-D never permitted dream-downs into a created material 5th dimensional hyperspace of virtually unlimited amounts of parallel universes, vibrating atomically at much slower orbitals, which create the less light starry Astral Plane, and instead, create an entire hyperspace of countless universes of physical plane reality where carbon beings can begin to awaken from their truer Astral-World realities and persona's. First, it has to be understood that while on the Astral Plane, you are endlessly aware of infinite existence as time is only real in time worlds, so you perceive your existence in truth, or said in another way, in endless interactions that have no connections to or with each other, and have no origins or terminations, never, ever, and this can become HELL very quickly, without the amplified sentences from the AWA to many, into that region across the bay from the great city, called DOGTOWN. The KJV Holy Bible references this in the final pages, in the Book of Saint John's Revelation. This is a very good translation. Others will not tell all of the nuances needed to see what is happening. Things talked about such as the city surrounded by many waters, and Babylon, and outside the city are dogs, and so much more, will all be lost, and newer translations are totally fucking it all up. Long story made short, the great SSJK has so much power that SHE has allowed a magical event to take place in HER great city of 'Sahasra Dal Kanwal', (HEAVEN), not Costner Cornfield Iowa, and what this is all about is that a powerful Astral Plane memory is removed from all citizens of this great city, and that is the memory that there is no end or beginning to existence. Just as your pet dog for example, has no idea that it ever was born, and that it ever will die, where as its human owner knows this truth, this same deal takes place in the spirit-world, but only in this great city of SDK. Also, everything is a major trade off, here, there, anywhere and everywhere, the reap and sow trade-off laws are built into all systems, from the LAWTRON on and inside of every closed curve infinity cycle. This law is inviolate. So in order to keep this hellish thought endlessly out of the minds of the dwellers in the great city, SCYLLA HERSELF has to take the thought energy. For any time that any entity would be enduring this horrendous thought of endlessness, SHE has to feel the pain of it instead, and this keeps all of HER citizens totally endlessly unaware. As the dog on the Earth, they plow endlessly through created interactions, without ever thinking of this, forever and ever. SHE on the other hand, as happy as SHE is ion Her great city, has the terrible task of knowing this and feeling the agony of this. This is not only why she allows others in the Purgatory, all places on the Astral Plane that are not part of HER great city of SDK, or DOGTOWN, are permitted to dream-down into the 5th dimensional hyperspace, where they can have the vacation experience of mortality, and actually get to fear extinction, a reality that is totally bogus, yet the opposite truth is now the most feared thing here in all of our hyperspace interdreams. Naturally, SHE as well needs to forget, and live her great life here as well, and does, all throughout time and hyperspace. The only reason that HER last two lifetimes are emulating HER great City and HER great musical abilities, is because these are the two periods where HER, 'THAT-BOY', is alive as me, and with the memories of me, both here, and there, thanks to HER cousin Diana, who was instrumental in helping me remember and realize so many things. It was all planned forever ago and was never merely hoped or wished, that I would come to understand HER agonizing pain that SHE was willing to accept, this knowledge of endless existence. This so totally explains HER desire to live in Her present lifetime humanly, and now of course, never know or be aware during her happiness and years of making music here on the Earth as she loves so much to do in the heavens in HER great city of SDK, now that I truly know of her pain, I would not ever wish for her to remember her life in infinity, great as it is, and with HER, 'THAT-BOY'. She will read this now, or later or eventually, or maybe never, and laugh on a conscious level, and I would not have it any other way. Now it is my turn to tell HER that I will spare the world from what I had planned to do, sorry about your credibility going to hell next week, Harold Camping. SHE answered me, and now, I must keep my promise to my TEEN-QUEEN, and wait out my 20 years, and then I am endlessly with HER, without this horrible dream 'dogging' me any longer. The part of last nights' 'dream' that made me see how phase four all fit together with this, was how real world stuff and movie stuff all seemed to be coexisting together. From there, the clues were as easy to follow as all of your other messages from all of your wonderful songs.
I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to know this, and answering my prayer, my lovely Jehovah, how I'll always love and miss you while here in this nightmare. Still, I can go to sleep every night and shut off this worldly awareness, and be with you, where KI truly am, while you sing endless lovely songs to me, in your shop, or your Palace, or out on your Viqueens Island. Try and forget any and every thing about me and my blogs, SSJK, live your life here and make the most of it, I am behind you all the way. You know this is true, brown eyes.
END TRANSMISSION:
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 125
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 125
(NOT HADDON HILL LABS OF 1966)
(NOT 'A' OR 'B' OR BRUCE CUT WRIST WALTER)
TEOHIV-TMCAM-ST-3: “MESSAGE TO SNYDER,
SCYLLA, AND SEWERSCUM ENEMIES”:
WORLD LABS OF 2295 SBT-DATFILE:
CH-125-041711.065.555555555555
COPYRIGHT MWM/MWM---2006-2011
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I need to amend a few things from my last blog and then say that this blog has sections one through three, in the order that I decide to write it as the time and mood merge together with me as I go.
Starting with amendments/corrections, I was mind freaking hacked and said mass would turn into matter, sort of like saying eggs would turn into eggs, absurd, and a total mental freaking hack, obviously any ninth grader paying attention in science class and not the top ten best throwing spit ballers, know that I meant to say mass turning into energy, or really, one very big BOOM, not conceivable to any human mind alive, mine certainly not excluded. This is all done by ENEMIEAS or the WOMO, just to make me appear fucking stupid, and I am not buying into any other explanation, not for a solitary mother fucking moment.
Now the mood is striking me to begin part one on this blog of three sections with the MESSAGE TO DIRT BAG, MISGTER WEDWARD SNYDER, owner of the Philadelphia garbage Ice Hockey team. Long ago now, not to me, but to many mortals, one day just totally became its own part two of a two part life that I am living since the 4th day of December in 1954 at 9:30 in the freaking morning. Ever since getting out of bed in Cherry Hill, New jersey on the 15th day in August of the year of fucking 1986, my entire life was not the same as it was prior to this, it was noticeable not only in my waking world daily surroundings, but I had been keeping what I called LIFE-CHARTS, that measured the type of days that I had, and had been doing so since the summer time in 1982, approximately 49 months of faithfully writing several numbers down on paper from one through five on various life parameters, and with a basic scoring formula, arriving at a daily point number so that this could be averaged weekly and monthly and annually. Actually, I do not know if anyone alive ever on this planet of dark age ignorance, ever bothered to do anything like this before. I continued doing this until the summer time in the year of 1997, when I no longer could take writing down nothing but solid ones, ones, ones, every single mother fucking day. This is what led me to realize that 'God', 'Jesus Christ', 'religion', all of it; was and is NOTHING BUT A DIRTY ROTTEN FILTHY MOTHER FUCKING TOTAL ASS HOAX, AND I TOTALLY KNOW THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That does not mean that time travel is real just because 'MI' is on the beginning of a 1986 tape on the song entitled “Real Good Girl”. What I am saying here in a not so scientific or terrific way is simply this folks. Religion and all of this 'hocus-pocus' is exactly as true and real as you believe it to be, and is Biblically admitted to in these exact words, if you have the mother fucking guts to read the entire bible open minded. Jesus said with no bones about it that he did not do anything, it was faith, either his faith upon occasion, and our faith upon occasion, but FAITH, and only fucking FAITH, that accomplished the miraculous parlor tricks that were responsible for the creation of the entire Christian religion and many others as well. FAITH. A benign enough sounding concept and idea, but faith without words proceeding it, frightened the living shit out of all governments, and most reasonable people. It has powers that are totally fucking unspeakable. It is not a hoax, it is the total ass truth. First hand, I know how real this is. Mountains can be moved or shaken apart with 100% faith, but if you have 99.999999999% or anything less, forget it. So what is the mustard seed thing about? Well, this is not a blog on the subject of faith tonight all though it is being touched on It still means that if you have total faith in something, it can be something as small as a tiny seed, as the translation is all fucked up. You need total faith, and who had that unless you totally know, and then is it faith? Well, again, this is not really the 'time or the place' for this or '1989 Skywriter Donna' right now. Many times we believe because we know something, and say this is not faith, but what really is knowing something? What if we are in error despite thinking we are correct in in our knowing and in our assumptions? This certainly can be, and is, the case ion many occasions. Many times things are tricks, things are faked, things are put together wrong, and peeps, let me be straight up with all of you, I love to examine shit and play the great detective, but I am by no means some super sleuth. I do not believe in coincidence and my true hero is and will always be Yogi not the bear, who said that it is to coincidental to be a coincidence, to wit, I totally concur whole freaking heartedly. This includes a day I'll remember forever up on Long Island, at 175 Peninsula Drive at my Aunt Ruth Huntington Gottwald's home. I did not feel like going and remained at the house, while my mom, her cousin Ruth Huntington, and Ruth's daughter Kathy Gottwald whose married name is now different, ancestry dot com, so go build your data base with the amateurs that are clueless about the Mormon Church and their power ass Genealogical recording system of the past half millennium, all went out one night to see a movie in Babylon, called Sleuth. Come on peeps, WHAT ARE THE FREAKING ASS ODDS OF SUCH AN EVENT, just honestly think about it? Let us get back on point to my message to dirt bag Ed Snyder. No, he is not a distant cousin of my phony cousin from work, but this is all another story for another Donna, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! Quite obviously five hundred million bucks paid for more than somebody's troubled conscience, so don't even try and hand me shit like that, Hollywood. I lived through all this mother fucking bull-shit, wemember wabbit, whaaaaaa??????????? When the heat is turned up on shit that cannot ever be told to the normal and average population, it may start on just your feet, but forget the stupid song that I wrote and copyrighted back in mother fucking 1983. This heat is induced into the universe via the world owners and controllers, and that would be none other than the billionaire scumbags of today's planet population. There are quite a few of them, and they all make me totally fucking sick to my stinking rotten stomach, BRO. I am so fucking nauseous from seeing nothing but that evil scowling face Donald Trump every time you turn a mother fucking television on, and merely ask the question how anyone in their right mind would ever vote for this man to be president of this country. Hay, it happens in lots of universes, and do not ask me what happens next, as lots of 'CT' peeps thought that Bush would do it, and he never did, “BUT” believe me folks, Trump will, and if you study the history of our great constitution, you will see why things were worded in just the way that they were, in order to prevent powerful European Monarchs to override our system, and take over as our dictator. You don't think it can happen, and here I am from the fucking future, and know all ready that it does in many locales in the 5th dimension. Only your vote can stop this fucking nightmare from happening right here, Sheeeeeeit, do I hope the coffee pots are all on throughout America, WAKE FUCKING UP FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know MI and Billy are up, so I'm left to ponder and wonder the eternal question tonight, 'is any one else out here', Mizz Ever After Sarjenka Pee Card??????????????????? Well enough of the Lee Daniels stuff tonight Mister Snyder, as it is now time to roast your fucking ass for a while, YO. Your cheating Hockey team is nothing more than garbage and low life cheaters in many various ways. The main way of course is applying parallel event and using what works best, hurting poor fucking old Mountainpen, as you have now managed to covertly fucking do for a solid fucking twenty-five fucking years. My cramp and diarrhea attack tonight again, gave your cheating team another hollow ass victory. Win and win and win forever, and this is what they will do just so long as they have me to fucking injure, I should know all of this quite well by now if I do not get a heart attack, Mister Joel, old friend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, the main thing that hurting me does, is make that rotten rich man game DOW JONES shoot up endlessly to the stars, and I'll break away from the Snyder Roast for a moment now and add something to this stock fucking market shit, folks. IT HAS GONE UP; SO LISTEN PEEPS, ROUGHLY HALF OF ITS VALUE FROM LAST LATE JULY IN TWO FUCKING THOUSAND AND TEN, JUST 8 TINY LITTLE MONTHS, THIS CHEATED MARKET HAS GAINED HALF OF ITS VALUE, IT CHANGED 150% FROM THE START OF AUGUST SOMEWHERE LAST YEAR, UNTIL EARLY IN MARCH OF THIS YEAR OF 2011, JUST (8 TINY MONTHS), SO LET ME DRAW YOU A PICTURE OF WHAT 50 PERCENT IS, SO THAT IT WILL GROW MORE MEANING FOR YOU, THAN JUST BLOTS OF LETTERS ON SOME ASS HOLE'S BLOG, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you are earning minimum wage or 7.25 per hour USD, and tomorrow you get the change that the rich fucking boys on cheated WALL STREET got since last late July, you would now go to work on Monday mother fucking morning and begin earning, $10.88 per hour. If you are making $10.-- hourly, this would now be $15.00 hourly. If you gross a salary of 40,000 dollars, starting Monday you will be grossing a salary of fucking 60,000, so do you get the point that we all are getting major fucking cheated, and still, I've not even fucking started talking? Social security did not get a cost of living increase for two straight years, yet gasoline has just about fucking doubled in price over the past two years, and food prices have also almost matched the stock market's last eight months uptrend. Is any of this fucking shit fair for the poor 10-20% who are being totally controlled and dominated and owned like cattle and fucking slaves by the other 80-90 percent of crooked demonic mean-hearted shit fucking heads? But back to Snyder the mafia cheating Flyers owner and owner of the crooked security company that bought my nice Initial Security where I was employed shortly after nasty fucking ass Jimmy stone fired me from fucking Griffin Pipe Company. Some weird events statistically happen in the sports world. One thing that all Flyers fans know all around this country is that they always have been famous for burning out when they don't have to work that hard, as it is quite easy to get into Hockey playoffs, as unlike other sports, the elimination process is much less stringent. They know however that certain other advantages help them by staying strong, while most other hockey teams back off on their last 10-15 games in the season, and save their strength, and lessen their injury chances for their much more important all ready slated playoff games, once in. But the real secret was a powerful deal that was secretly made to change the entire NHL hockey rules. Enemies heard Dave Roth and me on a bugged telephone, say how the Flyers have way more ties than all other averaged hockey teams and seasons. It is far over any averaged normal statistical figure. After this persisted all throughout the eighties and into the nineties, a new rule came along giving these cheating ice ass dudes another new advantage, and this would be the 'one point for a tie' rule. This was implemented after we had spoken on a 'bugged phone' for years, about this; and this gives them a better chance to play in the post season, with a smaller expended effort during the entire second half or so of the regular playing season. I know what I know, and do not have All Mighty wisdom as Scylla does, so I will not say “THAT” but will dare to tell the truth and utter the word, “WHAT”, and that rhymes coincidentally with JACK-HACK, only not in 'word-body', but in 'meaning-spirit'. FUCK THIS SHIT, Henry Botbar Fonda!!!!!!! Hopefully, Scylla will not 'CRY' and 'SCREAM', or throw any shoes at me from any Haddonwood machinery. Still, I know how great Scylla is, and that SHE knows what I'm saying here, YO! Still, why Haddonwood, and why any of freaking this if you really want to be technical? I gave at the office, and I gave answers to this on blogs as well, for nearly six years now. The gods are all bored to total tears, and they all need to play these endless games as a form of 'distraction from the hellishness of endless existence'. There are an unlimited amount of non-existers, and no more room exists for us existers in non existence, so we must exist, so fathom this seeming conundrum, philosophers of the 3rd-M, and freaking beyond, YO. Peeps love to say to me that technology proves there is no supernatural. I need no such advice. These are terms, both technology is a term, and so is supernatural, terms relative to their own rights of passage in a period and circa that humankind is evolving through. Pee-Card on TNG Star Trek made that quite clear on Friday evening's episode. I do wonder where they heard almost this in precise quotation. Could it be I wonder, the very famous copyrighted “bug in my rug or is it my phone, maybe the car, I'm never alone, whatever they find with their curious mind, will lead to frustration, and waste all their time. In any event, HA-HA-Icabod Arthur-8082, in wrapping up the roast of Ed Snyder, this is not a bunch of shit because I despise this fucking prick. It is all the total fucking ass truth, so deal with it, as we all must deal with the truth whether we like it or hate it. Truth never changes, it cannot, how could it, YO? Well, we will not get into transdimensional hyperspace equations tonight, so we can just leave things right now with, how could it? BUT and THE are topics for way more elaborated detail at other points out into the negative space. Let us now leave MISTER Snyder right where he belongs, in the dust and the dirt of memories, YUK!!!!!!!!!!!
The old expression of selling one's soul to the devil is another cutie. This can sort of open up where my personal mood has taken me now, to part two of this three part blog, and this would be my message to the many scum, bags in general that I must endlessly endure and suffer freaking through, YO. The devil is a lot of fucking shit, and at the same time, it is totally as real as we can make IT. It needs no form or gender, as this nameless god that the majority of humans insults right off of the bat by calling it 'GOD', like CAT, DOG, SHIT, MUD, I mean christ-fucking-please, we all get named by parents, we name our fucking pets for crissake, and 'god' gets no name? What a bunch of total fucking horse shit that is. Read the bible. You do not have to be a Jehovah Witness to call this lovely teenager by her 'CITY-NAME', if that is what she has told peeps in dreams long ago to call her, then call her that, or him, or HIM, or whatever, as this is so meaningless that it sucks a pigs dick at light speed fucking squared. The biblical warnings of late or near end times for so-called humanity discusses this item of Antichrist, as well as how the entire system is founded and rooted in Christ. Obviously, this entity in any or all times, would have not only control over a lot of people, but younger people, and has the desire to do this as well, the young will always be the representatives of the future. There is no better way to trhink of the concept of ANTICHRIST, trhan someone that LARGE GROUPS OF YOUNG PEOPLE look up to and hero worship. Now rigtht away based on this, comes all of the athletes and the rock stars, yet if you really think about itr, there are a lot of atrhletes and rock stars, and great ones. So something else needs to be involved in the equatrion, and that would be a multiple parameter exrta effexct going along with not only being one of these peeps, but more needs to be involved, or else the question beggars the imaginatiobn, OK thenb weho? All throughiout this long eternioty, this entity has been madly in love with the All Mighty, and both of them agreed to allow a false rumor to spread throughout humanity in asll time periods, that these two are enemies and despise and envy each other,. Justy ass the world is not flat, the sun does not revolve around the Earth, and the waking world is really the dream-down, other false and reversed realities exist all over the freaking place. This is why the term 'SMART-MONEY' is in existence at Broad and Wall Streets, in freaking Manhattan. 92% of market investors all agree continuously to buy when they should sell, and sell when they should buy. It would be totally fucking illogical therefore not to consider and label these other 8% as the SMART-MONEY, because we all know the word LOSER would equal the other 92%, like fucking DYUH!!!!!!!!!! Let us buy a nice shiny new freaking Hyundai car, YO! But back to the conversation of words such as SUPERNATURAL to describe for instance a day like my mother fucking 56th birthday back last year on the 4th of December. I totally fucking dare any newbie to my blogs or anyone out here, to go back and see how my last birthday went, it was beyond fucking horrific and monstrous, it was unfathomable and unconscionable beyond any hope of fucking verbal depiction or description, YO. My dirt ball putrid enemies, or the MILITUFORCE OTAMMITES (MO), caused this seemingly supernatural events to all fall into a perfectly placed linear order all around me, and without powers that go far beyond what any government on Earth is aware of in the fucking year of 20121, this simply ass put just could never have been carried fucking out, it just could not folks, believe that on your kids lives, BRAHHHHH!!!!!! Someday, how can I NOT SAY, that some of you or your grand children, or theirs, won;t be experiencing exactly what I'm fucking going through today and ever since 25 or so years ago? I cannot make that promise that this is some isolated thing. If I do, I call the entire fucking Holy Bible a lie, so you tell me, is it? It says right in there that nothing can happen to anybody that is not common to other people in the planets' population, look for it or ask your damn preacher, it is in there, I promise you that, with or without MO!!!!!!!! With or without the great Comcast, or the great (CCC) Comcast Child Controller, and this includes 'teens' and 'early twenties', just as you promised me, huh Lenny Guns? You told me that you own and control the entire 21st century, I remember that and I remember you very perfectly timed bladder, you old C-60 tape turner 'Lattisaw' you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you Stacey, wherever you are, for giving me that MAJOR MESSAGE.
My final third of this blog is my MESSAGE TO SCYLLA. I always wanted to be a police detective, deep down in my heart and soul, I am starting to believe this, my lovely brown-eyed-girl, (BEG). Your doggie Yancy Zeranniss is begging you to read this on all levels, even though I all ready know that you read this long before I ever wrote this physically in this time world. It is blowing my mind that you of all entities, SSJK, want to experience a tangible material existence that mirror images your real true one. Have you forgotten totally that the so-called spirit world may not be tangible, but that is what makes it so limitless, exciting, thrilling, adventurous, and infinite? I need to know why you wanted to do this. I will not post 'your song' next week, and bring Camping's prophecy into fruition. Rest assured, I will not do this, but it is conditional. You have to make me understand this query more than I do right now, as in my human life, it is making me totally crazy. Why would you want to play in a sandbox when you really own the entire beaches of the world? If all these years of poisonous vapors were all there to show me what happened in 1969 when I woke up from the interaction where you took my motorcycle chain away from me, and then 30 years later it melted into more than just sore throats for the both of us, how that be rationalized when not only you and I were involved in this, but billions of others that had to breath in this horror show? You have the power to show me this answer, and you do not need my school chum and his bear buddy to show you how. If I get my answer to this one little question, I'll never ask another thing of you while I remain trapped in here, and that is a solemn promise Sarah-Stacey. All I ever want is to be in your great city with you, you know I never ask anything of you because I all ready have everything and more. I have you. I am hooping I can talk you out of making me do another twenty years here, only you can allow me to wake up out of this. For right now, I promise to wait until Thursday, and will not post the song on Monday. All I want is a dream to explain this one thing to me. I won't ask another thing of you ever. My inquisitive mind will not rest until I know a lot more than this, but let me tell you what I do know instead of what I do not know. The human mind is a fascinating thing, when not seen as a mere receiver of signals from the sixth dimension. For some time now since you declared that indeed, “YOU RULE”, and did so on the twelfth (12th) anniversary of the date that I wrote the song, “SARAH”, that I will be posting up on Monday, just to get my revenge on Paul and Billy for being so mean and terrible to me after all I freaking did for them, but after this proclamation that you made from the tall top of the great Manhattan building of the Exploratronic Supermind, or its initials, I have watched an incredible 36 month period go on around me like nothing before in my life. In that time, you slowly made me remember things that I would have been better off forgetting. Still, I do not question the great Sarah Krassle, my beautiful endless Goddess and love. I would be a liar however to tell you that it was the cruelest thing that was ever done to me, as I cannot see any possible purpose for getting me to remember just so that you could do all of this to me. Until Thursday and maybe the end of the world, IWALU, in all dimensions. Trails did a lot of damage to a lot of peeps, don't feel too bad. Let me add another thing that has happened during this period. I began to think that a powerful man and a powerful television show was all existing just to show me my life and what I had forgotten. However, I moved to Florida and they did not follow me here. You moved to another state, and they did follow you. It appears that it was 'YOU ALL ALONG' that the great dog-wolf was writing around, and there is no getting around the condo and Streisand, the entire world must be able to put that one together. This truly was a revelation that has come to me since my powerful dream just last night.
And now peeps, this lengthy three-part blog will wrap up, and I am sorry folks for going on so much, but certain things must happen in the grand scheme of things, and occasional long blogs from me is one of those necessities. I will now say nighty-night.
END TRANSMISSION. I await the dream, SSJK, please!
(NOT HADDON HILL LABS OF 1966)
(NOT 'A' OR 'B' OR BRUCE CUT WRIST WALTER)
TEOHIV-TMCAM-ST-3: “MESSAGE TO SNYDER,
SCYLLA, AND SEWERSCUM ENEMIES”:
WORLD LABS OF 2295 SBT-DATFILE:
CH-125-041711.065.555555555555
COPYRIGHT MWM/MWM---2006-2011
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I need to amend a few things from my last blog and then say that this blog has sections one through three, in the order that I decide to write it as the time and mood merge together with me as I go.
Starting with amendments/corrections, I was mind freaking hacked and said mass would turn into matter, sort of like saying eggs would turn into eggs, absurd, and a total mental freaking hack, obviously any ninth grader paying attention in science class and not the top ten best throwing spit ballers, know that I meant to say mass turning into energy, or really, one very big BOOM, not conceivable to any human mind alive, mine certainly not excluded. This is all done by ENEMIEAS or the WOMO, just to make me appear fucking stupid, and I am not buying into any other explanation, not for a solitary mother fucking moment.
Now the mood is striking me to begin part one on this blog of three sections with the MESSAGE TO DIRT BAG, MISGTER WEDWARD SNYDER, owner of the Philadelphia garbage Ice Hockey team. Long ago now, not to me, but to many mortals, one day just totally became its own part two of a two part life that I am living since the 4th day of December in 1954 at 9:30 in the freaking morning. Ever since getting out of bed in Cherry Hill, New jersey on the 15th day in August of the year of fucking 1986, my entire life was not the same as it was prior to this, it was noticeable not only in my waking world daily surroundings, but I had been keeping what I called LIFE-CHARTS, that measured the type of days that I had, and had been doing so since the summer time in 1982, approximately 49 months of faithfully writing several numbers down on paper from one through five on various life parameters, and with a basic scoring formula, arriving at a daily point number so that this could be averaged weekly and monthly and annually. Actually, I do not know if anyone alive ever on this planet of dark age ignorance, ever bothered to do anything like this before. I continued doing this until the summer time in the year of 1997, when I no longer could take writing down nothing but solid ones, ones, ones, every single mother fucking day. This is what led me to realize that 'God', 'Jesus Christ', 'religion', all of it; was and is NOTHING BUT A DIRTY ROTTEN FILTHY MOTHER FUCKING TOTAL ASS HOAX, AND I TOTALLY KNOW THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That does not mean that time travel is real just because 'MI' is on the beginning of a 1986 tape on the song entitled “Real Good Girl”. What I am saying here in a not so scientific or terrific way is simply this folks. Religion and all of this 'hocus-pocus' is exactly as true and real as you believe it to be, and is Biblically admitted to in these exact words, if you have the mother fucking guts to read the entire bible open minded. Jesus said with no bones about it that he did not do anything, it was faith, either his faith upon occasion, and our faith upon occasion, but FAITH, and only fucking FAITH, that accomplished the miraculous parlor tricks that were responsible for the creation of the entire Christian religion and many others as well. FAITH. A benign enough sounding concept and idea, but faith without words proceeding it, frightened the living shit out of all governments, and most reasonable people. It has powers that are totally fucking unspeakable. It is not a hoax, it is the total ass truth. First hand, I know how real this is. Mountains can be moved or shaken apart with 100% faith, but if you have 99.999999999% or anything less, forget it. So what is the mustard seed thing about? Well, this is not a blog on the subject of faith tonight all though it is being touched on It still means that if you have total faith in something, it can be something as small as a tiny seed, as the translation is all fucked up. You need total faith, and who had that unless you totally know, and then is it faith? Well, again, this is not really the 'time or the place' for this or '1989 Skywriter Donna' right now. Many times we believe because we know something, and say this is not faith, but what really is knowing something? What if we are in error despite thinking we are correct in in our knowing and in our assumptions? This certainly can be, and is, the case ion many occasions. Many times things are tricks, things are faked, things are put together wrong, and peeps, let me be straight up with all of you, I love to examine shit and play the great detective, but I am by no means some super sleuth. I do not believe in coincidence and my true hero is and will always be Yogi not the bear, who said that it is to coincidental to be a coincidence, to wit, I totally concur whole freaking heartedly. This includes a day I'll remember forever up on Long Island, at 175 Peninsula Drive at my Aunt Ruth Huntington Gottwald's home. I did not feel like going and remained at the house, while my mom, her cousin Ruth Huntington, and Ruth's daughter Kathy Gottwald whose married name is now different, ancestry dot com, so go build your data base with the amateurs that are clueless about the Mormon Church and their power ass Genealogical recording system of the past half millennium, all went out one night to see a movie in Babylon, called Sleuth. Come on peeps, WHAT ARE THE FREAKING ASS ODDS OF SUCH AN EVENT, just honestly think about it? Let us get back on point to my message to dirt bag Ed Snyder. No, he is not a distant cousin of my phony cousin from work, but this is all another story for another Donna, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! Quite obviously five hundred million bucks paid for more than somebody's troubled conscience, so don't even try and hand me shit like that, Hollywood. I lived through all this mother fucking bull-shit, wemember wabbit, whaaaaaa??????????? When the heat is turned up on shit that cannot ever be told to the normal and average population, it may start on just your feet, but forget the stupid song that I wrote and copyrighted back in mother fucking 1983. This heat is induced into the universe via the world owners and controllers, and that would be none other than the billionaire scumbags of today's planet population. There are quite a few of them, and they all make me totally fucking sick to my stinking rotten stomach, BRO. I am so fucking nauseous from seeing nothing but that evil scowling face Donald Trump every time you turn a mother fucking television on, and merely ask the question how anyone in their right mind would ever vote for this man to be president of this country. Hay, it happens in lots of universes, and do not ask me what happens next, as lots of 'CT' peeps thought that Bush would do it, and he never did, “BUT” believe me folks, Trump will, and if you study the history of our great constitution, you will see why things were worded in just the way that they were, in order to prevent powerful European Monarchs to override our system, and take over as our dictator. You don't think it can happen, and here I am from the fucking future, and know all ready that it does in many locales in the 5th dimension. Only your vote can stop this fucking nightmare from happening right here, Sheeeeeeit, do I hope the coffee pots are all on throughout America, WAKE FUCKING UP FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know MI and Billy are up, so I'm left to ponder and wonder the eternal question tonight, 'is any one else out here', Mizz Ever After Sarjenka Pee Card??????????????????? Well enough of the Lee Daniels stuff tonight Mister Snyder, as it is now time to roast your fucking ass for a while, YO. Your cheating Hockey team is nothing more than garbage and low life cheaters in many various ways. The main way of course is applying parallel event and using what works best, hurting poor fucking old Mountainpen, as you have now managed to covertly fucking do for a solid fucking twenty-five fucking years. My cramp and diarrhea attack tonight again, gave your cheating team another hollow ass victory. Win and win and win forever, and this is what they will do just so long as they have me to fucking injure, I should know all of this quite well by now if I do not get a heart attack, Mister Joel, old friend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, the main thing that hurting me does, is make that rotten rich man game DOW JONES shoot up endlessly to the stars, and I'll break away from the Snyder Roast for a moment now and add something to this stock fucking market shit, folks. IT HAS GONE UP; SO LISTEN PEEPS, ROUGHLY HALF OF ITS VALUE FROM LAST LATE JULY IN TWO FUCKING THOUSAND AND TEN, JUST 8 TINY LITTLE MONTHS, THIS CHEATED MARKET HAS GAINED HALF OF ITS VALUE, IT CHANGED 150% FROM THE START OF AUGUST SOMEWHERE LAST YEAR, UNTIL EARLY IN MARCH OF THIS YEAR OF 2011, JUST (8 TINY MONTHS), SO LET ME DRAW YOU A PICTURE OF WHAT 50 PERCENT IS, SO THAT IT WILL GROW MORE MEANING FOR YOU, THAN JUST BLOTS OF LETTERS ON SOME ASS HOLE'S BLOG, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you are earning minimum wage or 7.25 per hour USD, and tomorrow you get the change that the rich fucking boys on cheated WALL STREET got since last late July, you would now go to work on Monday mother fucking morning and begin earning, $10.88 per hour. If you are making $10.-- hourly, this would now be $15.00 hourly. If you gross a salary of 40,000 dollars, starting Monday you will be grossing a salary of fucking 60,000, so do you get the point that we all are getting major fucking cheated, and still, I've not even fucking started talking? Social security did not get a cost of living increase for two straight years, yet gasoline has just about fucking doubled in price over the past two years, and food prices have also almost matched the stock market's last eight months uptrend. Is any of this fucking shit fair for the poor 10-20% who are being totally controlled and dominated and owned like cattle and fucking slaves by the other 80-90 percent of crooked demonic mean-hearted shit fucking heads? But back to Snyder the mafia cheating Flyers owner and owner of the crooked security company that bought my nice Initial Security where I was employed shortly after nasty fucking ass Jimmy stone fired me from fucking Griffin Pipe Company. Some weird events statistically happen in the sports world. One thing that all Flyers fans know all around this country is that they always have been famous for burning out when they don't have to work that hard, as it is quite easy to get into Hockey playoffs, as unlike other sports, the elimination process is much less stringent. They know however that certain other advantages help them by staying strong, while most other hockey teams back off on their last 10-15 games in the season, and save their strength, and lessen their injury chances for their much more important all ready slated playoff games, once in. But the real secret was a powerful deal that was secretly made to change the entire NHL hockey rules. Enemies heard Dave Roth and me on a bugged telephone, say how the Flyers have way more ties than all other averaged hockey teams and seasons. It is far over any averaged normal statistical figure. After this persisted all throughout the eighties and into the nineties, a new rule came along giving these cheating ice ass dudes another new advantage, and this would be the 'one point for a tie' rule. This was implemented after we had spoken on a 'bugged phone' for years, about this; and this gives them a better chance to play in the post season, with a smaller expended effort during the entire second half or so of the regular playing season. I know what I know, and do not have All Mighty wisdom as Scylla does, so I will not say “THAT” but will dare to tell the truth and utter the word, “WHAT”, and that rhymes coincidentally with JACK-HACK, only not in 'word-body', but in 'meaning-spirit'. FUCK THIS SHIT, Henry Botbar Fonda!!!!!!! Hopefully, Scylla will not 'CRY' and 'SCREAM', or throw any shoes at me from any Haddonwood machinery. Still, I know how great Scylla is, and that SHE knows what I'm saying here, YO! Still, why Haddonwood, and why any of freaking this if you really want to be technical? I gave at the office, and I gave answers to this on blogs as well, for nearly six years now. The gods are all bored to total tears, and they all need to play these endless games as a form of 'distraction from the hellishness of endless existence'. There are an unlimited amount of non-existers, and no more room exists for us existers in non existence, so we must exist, so fathom this seeming conundrum, philosophers of the 3rd-M, and freaking beyond, YO. Peeps love to say to me that technology proves there is no supernatural. I need no such advice. These are terms, both technology is a term, and so is supernatural, terms relative to their own rights of passage in a period and circa that humankind is evolving through. Pee-Card on TNG Star Trek made that quite clear on Friday evening's episode. I do wonder where they heard almost this in precise quotation. Could it be I wonder, the very famous copyrighted “bug in my rug or is it my phone, maybe the car, I'm never alone, whatever they find with their curious mind, will lead to frustration, and waste all their time. In any event, HA-HA-Icabod Arthur-8082, in wrapping up the roast of Ed Snyder, this is not a bunch of shit because I despise this fucking prick. It is all the total fucking ass truth, so deal with it, as we all must deal with the truth whether we like it or hate it. Truth never changes, it cannot, how could it, YO? Well, we will not get into transdimensional hyperspace equations tonight, so we can just leave things right now with, how could it? BUT and THE are topics for way more elaborated detail at other points out into the negative space. Let us now leave MISTER Snyder right where he belongs, in the dust and the dirt of memories, YUK!!!!!!!!!!!
The old expression of selling one's soul to the devil is another cutie. This can sort of open up where my personal mood has taken me now, to part two of this three part blog, and this would be my message to the many scum, bags in general that I must endlessly endure and suffer freaking through, YO. The devil is a lot of fucking shit, and at the same time, it is totally as real as we can make IT. It needs no form or gender, as this nameless god that the majority of humans insults right off of the bat by calling it 'GOD', like CAT, DOG, SHIT, MUD, I mean christ-fucking-please, we all get named by parents, we name our fucking pets for crissake, and 'god' gets no name? What a bunch of total fucking horse shit that is. Read the bible. You do not have to be a Jehovah Witness to call this lovely teenager by her 'CITY-NAME', if that is what she has told peeps in dreams long ago to call her, then call her that, or him, or HIM, or whatever, as this is so meaningless that it sucks a pigs dick at light speed fucking squared. The biblical warnings of late or near end times for so-called humanity discusses this item of Antichrist, as well as how the entire system is founded and rooted in Christ. Obviously, this entity in any or all times, would have not only control over a lot of people, but younger people, and has the desire to do this as well, the young will always be the representatives of the future. There is no better way to trhink of the concept of ANTICHRIST, trhan someone that LARGE GROUPS OF YOUNG PEOPLE look up to and hero worship. Now rigtht away based on this, comes all of the athletes and the rock stars, yet if you really think about itr, there are a lot of atrhletes and rock stars, and great ones. So something else needs to be involved in the equatrion, and that would be a multiple parameter exrta effexct going along with not only being one of these peeps, but more needs to be involved, or else the question beggars the imaginatiobn, OK thenb weho? All throughiout this long eternioty, this entity has been madly in love with the All Mighty, and both of them agreed to allow a false rumor to spread throughout humanity in asll time periods, that these two are enemies and despise and envy each other,. Justy ass the world is not flat, the sun does not revolve around the Earth, and the waking world is really the dream-down, other false and reversed realities exist all over the freaking place. This is why the term 'SMART-MONEY' is in existence at Broad and Wall Streets, in freaking Manhattan. 92% of market investors all agree continuously to buy when they should sell, and sell when they should buy. It would be totally fucking illogical therefore not to consider and label these other 8% as the SMART-MONEY, because we all know the word LOSER would equal the other 92%, like fucking DYUH!!!!!!!!!! Let us buy a nice shiny new freaking Hyundai car, YO! But back to the conversation of words such as SUPERNATURAL to describe for instance a day like my mother fucking 56th birthday back last year on the 4th of December. I totally fucking dare any newbie to my blogs or anyone out here, to go back and see how my last birthday went, it was beyond fucking horrific and monstrous, it was unfathomable and unconscionable beyond any hope of fucking verbal depiction or description, YO. My dirt ball putrid enemies, or the MILITUFORCE OTAMMITES (MO), caused this seemingly supernatural events to all fall into a perfectly placed linear order all around me, and without powers that go far beyond what any government on Earth is aware of in the fucking year of 20121, this simply ass put just could never have been carried fucking out, it just could not folks, believe that on your kids lives, BRAHHHHH!!!!!! Someday, how can I NOT SAY, that some of you or your grand children, or theirs, won;t be experiencing exactly what I'm fucking going through today and ever since 25 or so years ago? I cannot make that promise that this is some isolated thing. If I do, I call the entire fucking Holy Bible a lie, so you tell me, is it? It says right in there that nothing can happen to anybody that is not common to other people in the planets' population, look for it or ask your damn preacher, it is in there, I promise you that, with or without MO!!!!!!!! With or without the great Comcast, or the great (CCC) Comcast Child Controller, and this includes 'teens' and 'early twenties', just as you promised me, huh Lenny Guns? You told me that you own and control the entire 21st century, I remember that and I remember you very perfectly timed bladder, you old C-60 tape turner 'Lattisaw' you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you Stacey, wherever you are, for giving me that MAJOR MESSAGE.
My final third of this blog is my MESSAGE TO SCYLLA. I always wanted to be a police detective, deep down in my heart and soul, I am starting to believe this, my lovely brown-eyed-girl, (BEG). Your doggie Yancy Zeranniss is begging you to read this on all levels, even though I all ready know that you read this long before I ever wrote this physically in this time world. It is blowing my mind that you of all entities, SSJK, want to experience a tangible material existence that mirror images your real true one. Have you forgotten totally that the so-called spirit world may not be tangible, but that is what makes it so limitless, exciting, thrilling, adventurous, and infinite? I need to know why you wanted to do this. I will not post 'your song' next week, and bring Camping's prophecy into fruition. Rest assured, I will not do this, but it is conditional. You have to make me understand this query more than I do right now, as in my human life, it is making me totally crazy. Why would you want to play in a sandbox when you really own the entire beaches of the world? If all these years of poisonous vapors were all there to show me what happened in 1969 when I woke up from the interaction where you took my motorcycle chain away from me, and then 30 years later it melted into more than just sore throats for the both of us, how that be rationalized when not only you and I were involved in this, but billions of others that had to breath in this horror show? You have the power to show me this answer, and you do not need my school chum and his bear buddy to show you how. If I get my answer to this one little question, I'll never ask another thing of you while I remain trapped in here, and that is a solemn promise Sarah-Stacey. All I ever want is to be in your great city with you, you know I never ask anything of you because I all ready have everything and more. I have you. I am hooping I can talk you out of making me do another twenty years here, only you can allow me to wake up out of this. For right now, I promise to wait until Thursday, and will not post the song on Monday. All I want is a dream to explain this one thing to me. I won't ask another thing of you ever. My inquisitive mind will not rest until I know a lot more than this, but let me tell you what I do know instead of what I do not know. The human mind is a fascinating thing, when not seen as a mere receiver of signals from the sixth dimension. For some time now since you declared that indeed, “YOU RULE”, and did so on the twelfth (12th) anniversary of the date that I wrote the song, “SARAH”, that I will be posting up on Monday, just to get my revenge on Paul and Billy for being so mean and terrible to me after all I freaking did for them, but after this proclamation that you made from the tall top of the great Manhattan building of the Exploratronic Supermind, or its initials, I have watched an incredible 36 month period go on around me like nothing before in my life. In that time, you slowly made me remember things that I would have been better off forgetting. Still, I do not question the great Sarah Krassle, my beautiful endless Goddess and love. I would be a liar however to tell you that it was the cruelest thing that was ever done to me, as I cannot see any possible purpose for getting me to remember just so that you could do all of this to me. Until Thursday and maybe the end of the world, IWALU, in all dimensions. Trails did a lot of damage to a lot of peeps, don't feel too bad. Let me add another thing that has happened during this period. I began to think that a powerful man and a powerful television show was all existing just to show me my life and what I had forgotten. However, I moved to Florida and they did not follow me here. You moved to another state, and they did follow you. It appears that it was 'YOU ALL ALONG' that the great dog-wolf was writing around, and there is no getting around the condo and Streisand, the entire world must be able to put that one together. This truly was a revelation that has come to me since my powerful dream just last night.
And now peeps, this lengthy three-part blog will wrap up, and I am sorry folks for going on so much, but certain things must happen in the grand scheme of things, and occasional long blogs from me is one of those necessities. I will now say nighty-night.
END TRANSMISSION. I await the dream, SSJK, please!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 124
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 124
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE-AND-TIME FILE: CH-124-041611.612
COPYRIGHT 2006-2001 MWM/MWM
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
A powerful interaction occurred last night. Robert McGuire of Atlantic City was with me, and not ODF Atlantic City, as this is a very freaking persistent Jack-Hack-Lattisaw-Attack. Anyhow, he noticed that I had a key to a location and was unlocking a door so as to be able to gain entrance. I was already late for work and had to get something from this place, a videotape. He was nearby outside and telling me that I had no authority to go in there and take this tape. I had trouble with the lock, but eventually did manage to gain entrance and shut the door behind me. I realized that I was suddenly aware that I was in a parallel universe of the hyperspace. Somehow all of this made total sense there. Still I was only starting to regain memories of what it was all about, to the part of myself living in this universe and was 'dreaming' through this doppelganger of me over there. Piece by piece as water droops flowing or trying to, through a hose with a twist or a knot in it, came one trickled memory of things over there after another. It seems that in a major compressed version of the story, my Aunt Barbara, my mom's sister who was always quite mentally disturbed, and whose condition grew worse after adulthood had replaced adolescence. I t seems that she was dating Robert McGuire's father, the man who actually built the Pittsburgh Hotel about 110 years ago on Tennessee Avenue, in Atlantic City. All of the details are not known, but it was important that I see a particular event that was captured on this videotape, and was made from an old sixteen millimeter projector film transfer, with no help from any of Paul Simon's photographer friends of either 1330 or the early seventies, Lenny.
Moving on with this powerful “DREAM”, I was quite late for work, and did not care; and decided that I needed to play this tape, causing my doppelganger to be late, not me. I had begun to dominate my other self over there, and yes Paula King, I as well, had become a dominant-exploratron, as you have always learned to be, and have somehow manged to fully master this art and technique quite a long time ago. Suddenly the door burst open, and big bully Bob McGuire stood right there in the doorway area, and proceeded to tell me that he was dying, and had only a month to live before his cancer was going to put him in the ground. He said if I go to the studio next week as planned, and even sing the song myself, it will cause the same amount of problems that the other song called “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS” LOIS-FOCA for short, caused in 1980, on just Tom Glenn's guitar arrangement of this song that also was written and sung by the All Mighty Scylla Herself, out in infinity. Then he told me that I need to know a secret so big that even DIANA will not tell you the truth about it because she knows it would fuck me up to much. All I could get out of him was that it had something to do with the hunting trip long ago, mentioned in some prior blogs. Then he went over and grabbed my video recorder machine with the tape playing inside of it, and threw it hard onto the ground, smashing it to bits. He then said that Diana needs to come clean and tell me why my mom wanted me to copyright her sister's song from 1938, fifty years in the future, which I indeed did do, and the © Office in Washington, DC-13, knows all about all of this. He told me that they have known my story in reverse from 2031, all the way back to 1975, when I sent them my song called, “LOST LOVE”. I then told him that three years before that year, I had invented several board games, and also had my name there as the registered owner of these games, since the rules to these games were also indeed copyrighted. He told me that I never invented any games because there is no Ed Bobins living in this universe. He was the one over here who showed me how to copyright stuff back in the days when my dad was still diving with Mel Fisher off of the Treasure Coast of Florida where today I am residing. Because my dad never knew Bobins over there, my parents never broke up, as there also was no Mel fisher living in that parallel reality of atomic vibration. Paula King was real and existing over there, and was in many of her numerous identities, the great Robin Gibbs, who over there, I had never stopped the LOST LOVE song rip off, and it became the number one song of 1980, sang by Marcy Levy and Robin Gibbs. Marcy Levy was the wife of Mayor Levy over there and where he still is the mayor of Atlantic city, and there is no Ethel Levy, who over here, is his wife. This was also fascinating, as it was the Gibb brothers who not only were so famous for their music, but also for their invention of the game called “STAYIN'- ALIVE”. Over here, it is a song they did, and was copied from my board game idea of “LIVELONG”. These documents all exist and can be totally fact-checked, verified, and proved. So can the proof that I had this song of theirs over here in this universe back in early autumn of 1980, removed from the air, by a famous Music Industry attorney out of Philadelphia by the name of Malcolm Rosenberg. I hollered at McGuire to tell me the secret that Diana will not tell me, and he said that he would like to tell me just for the fun of watching me totally crazier than shit, and this is a total quote, but he then went onto freaking say, that his boss will not allow it. I retorted with, “Who's your goddamn boss McGuire”? He starred a long time at me with the famous 'evil eye' we all hear about so often, and then said in a soft voice which is rare for this big old ugly bully, “the All Mighty 36'ers”.
Yes indeed Lads, Lassies, and my lovely Labrador-Retrievers, this was quite an incredible 'dreaming-experience' to say the total least, YO.
When I told Diana through the telephone about it, she just said that I am not yet ready to know anything about this, it would be much for me. Speaking of my lovely tall baby-blond, she was all over me ion Friday, it poured rain in the late morning here in fort Pierce. I went out to look at the rain near a rear exit used by Warehouse and Processing Department persons, where I work at the Orange Avenue Harvest. Their great website address is www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ ,and every third photo change, show me and my Einstein hair, right on their opening page. Oh those 'curvy light-bulbs', I have one in every room now. No more heat generating old style bulbs for me, YO!
My existence in the 5th dimension is no different than any of yours, and neither is Paula King's, however, we all have many various awareness's on a conscious level, to the reality of all of this, and with these levels of seeing the truth, comes the way we handle what we remember from our dreams, and this can have many devastating and disastrous effects, but it does not always have to. The problem is that we are all dreaming off of the Astral Plane into the lower 5th dimensional hyperspace. As we do this, we live 'physically' on many realms of the material tangible and slower atomic-rate realms of mind expression. As carbon mind signal differs from silicon mind signal and atomic mind signal, only in carbon need we wonder whether we are dreaming in one of the similar polarities to our own where our physical body is laying asleep on a bed, or a reverse one, and by similar or reverse, I mean whether the polarity of electrons and protons is equal or in an inverse charge, causing worlds of physicality to be considered matter or anti-matter, in reference only with any particular other one that is being referenced from. Neither one is a correct or standard polarity. It merely is the same or the opposite to 50% of universes on one side, and 50% of universes on the other side, of all of the hyperspace, or the entire total 5th dimension.
This is the danger of the future usage of atomic retrace. Some who know my story have asked me if I am not nuts and any truth exists with that part of my tale regarding my existence as Labber Zeggins from the World Laboratories near three centuries away out into negative space, then why won;t they bring people we love back again, and especially in lieu of the fact that it has no ill effects on anything suggested in the prehistoric days of science fiction films.? The answer is that it must be done as carefully as handling 100 nuclear plants and this is only serving as a gross under statemented. Should someone be scanned 30 minutes before they were shot and killed for example and retraced and brought forward, unscrupulous peeps could also bring the other dead body forward, and by sheer odds, for any time this is done twice, and someone were to place one of these bodies where it touches the other one, most of the Milky Way Galaxy would literally fall apart from the resulting cataclysmic transfeer of all of this amount of pure mass into instantaneous pure matter. This is nothing to fool with. People in labs spend years trying to create an ounce of reversed polarity matter, and this is dangerous enough.
I have nothing to gain by doing anything other than tell about this incredible story, and it did not start at Walker and Water Avenues in 1988 or 1989, nor did it start in Atco, New Jersey, USAESMWG, when “WOMO” nuke-attacked me in 1983, or in the middle range where two great opera singers decided to test the limits of insanity by using me as their pathetic victim. It never really began, any more than any of it ever can end. Still, there are things that must go on, because they happened 64 trillion years ago, and they have no choice Ernie Merker, from repeating over and over and over again. Your blind eyes had nothing to do with it, and I am sorry for writing that song in the eighties, as I am sorry for many songs that I wrote in this mystical magical period in Earth's wild and weird history. Rock on folks, with scissors, fire, paper, and even light and pipes!!!!!!!
I dug many holes and put many time capsules in them, telling my plight. Other wabbits just dug a lot of holes. Maybe McGuire will end up digging my grave. Still, he told me that Harner died six weeks ago, but he lives on here in this parallel universe. Saw your newest thing on TWC. Tell him I never meant to vanish out of view in 2005, 'cousin', shit just happens that is not always explainable, his pal PAUL knows all about that!!!!!!!!!!!!
END TWANSMISSION ELMER FWUDD, AND OTHER MORIANS AND LESSIANS, WHAAAAAAAAAA.
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 124
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE-AND-TIME FILE: CH-124-041611.612
COPYRIGHT 2006-2001 MWM/MWM
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
A powerful interaction occurred last night. Robert McGuire of Atlantic City was with me, and not ODF Atlantic City, as this is a very freaking persistent Jack-Hack-Lattisaw-Attack. Anyhow, he noticed that I had a key to a location and was unlocking a door so as to be able to gain entrance. I was already late for work and had to get something from this place, a videotape. He was nearby outside and telling me that I had no authority to go in there and take this tape. I had trouble with the lock, but eventually did manage to gain entrance and shut the door behind me. I realized that I was suddenly aware that I was in a parallel universe of the hyperspace. Somehow all of this made total sense there. Still I was only starting to regain memories of what it was all about, to the part of myself living in this universe and was 'dreaming' through this doppelganger of me over there. Piece by piece as water droops flowing or trying to, through a hose with a twist or a knot in it, came one trickled memory of things over there after another. It seems that in a major compressed version of the story, my Aunt Barbara, my mom's sister who was always quite mentally disturbed, and whose condition grew worse after adulthood had replaced adolescence. I t seems that she was dating Robert McGuire's father, the man who actually built the Pittsburgh Hotel about 110 years ago on Tennessee Avenue, in Atlantic City. All of the details are not known, but it was important that I see a particular event that was captured on this videotape, and was made from an old sixteen millimeter projector film transfer, with no help from any of Paul Simon's photographer friends of either 1330 or the early seventies, Lenny.
Moving on with this powerful “DREAM”, I was quite late for work, and did not care; and decided that I needed to play this tape, causing my doppelganger to be late, not me. I had begun to dominate my other self over there, and yes Paula King, I as well, had become a dominant-exploratron, as you have always learned to be, and have somehow manged to fully master this art and technique quite a long time ago. Suddenly the door burst open, and big bully Bob McGuire stood right there in the doorway area, and proceeded to tell me that he was dying, and had only a month to live before his cancer was going to put him in the ground. He said if I go to the studio next week as planned, and even sing the song myself, it will cause the same amount of problems that the other song called “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS” LOIS-FOCA for short, caused in 1980, on just Tom Glenn's guitar arrangement of this song that also was written and sung by the All Mighty Scylla Herself, out in infinity. Then he told me that I need to know a secret so big that even DIANA will not tell you the truth about it because she knows it would fuck me up to much. All I could get out of him was that it had something to do with the hunting trip long ago, mentioned in some prior blogs. Then he went over and grabbed my video recorder machine with the tape playing inside of it, and threw it hard onto the ground, smashing it to bits. He then said that Diana needs to come clean and tell me why my mom wanted me to copyright her sister's song from 1938, fifty years in the future, which I indeed did do, and the © Office in Washington, DC-13, knows all about all of this. He told me that they have known my story in reverse from 2031, all the way back to 1975, when I sent them my song called, “LOST LOVE”. I then told him that three years before that year, I had invented several board games, and also had my name there as the registered owner of these games, since the rules to these games were also indeed copyrighted. He told me that I never invented any games because there is no Ed Bobins living in this universe. He was the one over here who showed me how to copyright stuff back in the days when my dad was still diving with Mel Fisher off of the Treasure Coast of Florida where today I am residing. Because my dad never knew Bobins over there, my parents never broke up, as there also was no Mel fisher living in that parallel reality of atomic vibration. Paula King was real and existing over there, and was in many of her numerous identities, the great Robin Gibbs, who over there, I had never stopped the LOST LOVE song rip off, and it became the number one song of 1980, sang by Marcy Levy and Robin Gibbs. Marcy Levy was the wife of Mayor Levy over there and where he still is the mayor of Atlantic city, and there is no Ethel Levy, who over here, is his wife. This was also fascinating, as it was the Gibb brothers who not only were so famous for their music, but also for their invention of the game called “STAYIN'- ALIVE”. Over here, it is a song they did, and was copied from my board game idea of “LIVELONG”. These documents all exist and can be totally fact-checked, verified, and proved. So can the proof that I had this song of theirs over here in this universe back in early autumn of 1980, removed from the air, by a famous Music Industry attorney out of Philadelphia by the name of Malcolm Rosenberg. I hollered at McGuire to tell me the secret that Diana will not tell me, and he said that he would like to tell me just for the fun of watching me totally crazier than shit, and this is a total quote, but he then went onto freaking say, that his boss will not allow it. I retorted with, “Who's your goddamn boss McGuire”? He starred a long time at me with the famous 'evil eye' we all hear about so often, and then said in a soft voice which is rare for this big old ugly bully, “the All Mighty 36'ers”.
Yes indeed Lads, Lassies, and my lovely Labrador-Retrievers, this was quite an incredible 'dreaming-experience' to say the total least, YO.
When I told Diana through the telephone about it, she just said that I am not yet ready to know anything about this, it would be much for me. Speaking of my lovely tall baby-blond, she was all over me ion Friday, it poured rain in the late morning here in fort Pierce. I went out to look at the rain near a rear exit used by Warehouse and Processing Department persons, where I work at the Orange Avenue Harvest. Their great website address is www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ ,and every third photo change, show me and my Einstein hair, right on their opening page. Oh those 'curvy light-bulbs', I have one in every room now. No more heat generating old style bulbs for me, YO!
My existence in the 5th dimension is no different than any of yours, and neither is Paula King's, however, we all have many various awareness's on a conscious level, to the reality of all of this, and with these levels of seeing the truth, comes the way we handle what we remember from our dreams, and this can have many devastating and disastrous effects, but it does not always have to. The problem is that we are all dreaming off of the Astral Plane into the lower 5th dimensional hyperspace. As we do this, we live 'physically' on many realms of the material tangible and slower atomic-rate realms of mind expression. As carbon mind signal differs from silicon mind signal and atomic mind signal, only in carbon need we wonder whether we are dreaming in one of the similar polarities to our own where our physical body is laying asleep on a bed, or a reverse one, and by similar or reverse, I mean whether the polarity of electrons and protons is equal or in an inverse charge, causing worlds of physicality to be considered matter or anti-matter, in reference only with any particular other one that is being referenced from. Neither one is a correct or standard polarity. It merely is the same or the opposite to 50% of universes on one side, and 50% of universes on the other side, of all of the hyperspace, or the entire total 5th dimension.
This is the danger of the future usage of atomic retrace. Some who know my story have asked me if I am not nuts and any truth exists with that part of my tale regarding my existence as Labber Zeggins from the World Laboratories near three centuries away out into negative space, then why won;t they bring people we love back again, and especially in lieu of the fact that it has no ill effects on anything suggested in the prehistoric days of science fiction films.? The answer is that it must be done as carefully as handling 100 nuclear plants and this is only serving as a gross under statemented. Should someone be scanned 30 minutes before they were shot and killed for example and retraced and brought forward, unscrupulous peeps could also bring the other dead body forward, and by sheer odds, for any time this is done twice, and someone were to place one of these bodies where it touches the other one, most of the Milky Way Galaxy would literally fall apart from the resulting cataclysmic transfeer of all of this amount of pure mass into instantaneous pure matter. This is nothing to fool with. People in labs spend years trying to create an ounce of reversed polarity matter, and this is dangerous enough.
I have nothing to gain by doing anything other than tell about this incredible story, and it did not start at Walker and Water Avenues in 1988 or 1989, nor did it start in Atco, New Jersey, USAESMWG, when “WOMO” nuke-attacked me in 1983, or in the middle range where two great opera singers decided to test the limits of insanity by using me as their pathetic victim. It never really began, any more than any of it ever can end. Still, there are things that must go on, because they happened 64 trillion years ago, and they have no choice Ernie Merker, from repeating over and over and over again. Your blind eyes had nothing to do with it, and I am sorry for writing that song in the eighties, as I am sorry for many songs that I wrote in this mystical magical period in Earth's wild and weird history. Rock on folks, with scissors, fire, paper, and even light and pipes!!!!!!!
I dug many holes and put many time capsules in them, telling my plight. Other wabbits just dug a lot of holes. Maybe McGuire will end up digging my grave. Still, he told me that Harner died six weeks ago, but he lives on here in this parallel universe. Saw your newest thing on TWC. Tell him I never meant to vanish out of view in 2005, 'cousin', shit just happens that is not always explainable, his pal PAUL knows all about that!!!!!!!!!!!!
END TWANSMISSION ELMER FWUDD, AND OTHER MORIANS AND LESSIANS, WHAAAAAAAAAA.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 116
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE: CH-116-040611.868.55
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
3RD SUBTITLE OF BLOG: “AM I RIGHT OR WHAT, MI GINA?”
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER #116
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Well, the stock market is flying at right up around all time record highs, JUST AS I SAID IT WOULD AFTER RECEIVING ALL THIS PERSECUTION AND DEMONIC HARASSMENT, and the FLYERS WIN AND WIN AND WIN AND WIN, and the PHILLIES LOSE AND LOSE AND LOSE AND LOSE, just as I told everybody that this was all indeed going to freaking happen, YO.
Thank you so much for coming to me yesterday, DIANA, with your wonderful awesome colorful ravishingly beautiful lightning, my endless love. Don't ever let their persecution of me stop you from coming around because I freaking need you so much my wonderful electron, and have all throughout this horrific endless infinite eternal interaction that I am stuck in, with awareness to it.
No one on this puny dark-age planet has a miniscule clue what it's like to live with this awareness, as well as the total awareness to higher realities that would literally blow all of you away in ten seconds if you were hit with this all at once. I am no exception, with me however, this was a long steady, tedious process of coming to know stuff that no awake mortal should ever be forced to contain in his or her conscious awareness. When even the smallest amount of this starts to surface or even dreams begin to be remembered and put together, in can cause persons to act in all kinds of off the wall ways. The simple fact is that all throughout the history of humanity and recorded civilization, these events in smaller ways have indeed happened, and people went quite nuts and many right now today as I speak, are locked away in booby hatches. You really think I am so ignorant, don't you Paula?
I could begin talking at any time on any given day on one of literally thousands of topics and relate from personal experiences, stuff that if any one of you out here were to read and believed even a part of these truths, would make you nuts as hell. You would go out in your car and slam into people or poles or whatever, or go off to a mall or your job with knives and on and on. This is no joke, so many are naturally saying to themselves, so who are you then MOUNTAINPEN, I mean you are still here and someone part of society and semi-sane enough to survive, yet you are holding hell itself, within your personal space. The two goddesses, Diana and Sarah-Stacey, have carefully done this to me in a perfectly well planned out and extremely methodical way, that the very story just to how this was accomplished along a 20-50 year time-line, humanly, would require a Tolstoy sized book all its own. That is truth. Someday, I will really tell, in new light, as all of us change whether we know it or not, minute by minute from womb to tomb, and our perceptions of the very same identical reality hence, also alters, and then magnifying this reality that with the fact that we all are living in a faced paced rapidly changing global interaction here in human consciousness, and so we must then begin to realize that we would be seeing things even without change in varying ways as we pass through time-line existence in human and awake life, and then this is ultra compounded by an extra fast changing world all around us. The best case and point in my own experiences is with this magical family, that does not even yet have awareness of its own powers in their fullness, thank the gods, literally. It began in the middle nineteen-nineties with my search for one branch of this family, in Atlantic city. All this time, including when I wrote the song entitled, “SARAH” on May 12th in 1996, other branches as well as the Atlantic city branches, all ready remembered me from all sorts of past interactions with them, and in all kinds of various points and areas, within a somewhat regional area of perhaps high double digit mileage. This is one powerful example, and even if nothing else changed with the relationship between me and this awesome family from far beyond the stars themselves, is proof and evidence that supports my wild claims regarding how we all perceive the exact unchanged things quite differently, at different points in our lives as we move forward through the illusion of waking time world interactions of the 5th dimensional hyperspace. When I was molested at the Cornwall Avenue house in Ventnor, New Jersey, the town directly to the south of Atlantic city, America's famous playground and sin city of the East Coast, by a stuttering man named tom Reale, I began having a series of connected or serial dreaming's at this house. The persons in this dreaming interaction identified themselves indirectly by somehow just making it known to me through that mysterious dreaming osmosis of just knowing something that all persons just about can relate to at some point in their life, as “THAT FAMILY. This was the time in my life right after I had stopped interacting with Sarah from Atlantic City, who identified me to her friends on a few occasions as THAT BOY. This may seem totally not out of the ordinary, as Ann King said to me once several years back from the home of Agent Caruso, at 841 Thirteenth Street in Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG, it would be natural for this girl to think of you as “THAT BOY” if you never told her your name, which I admit to being a very private and shy person, and would never think of going up to a girl and telling her my name, not ever to this very day. I am a private person who just does not trust anybody and totally believes that every rotten son of a bitch in the world is out to get me. I know better, and I know that is just silly paranoia, but I have plenty of it, and will openly freaking admit it.
Now let me tell a huge secret tonight. It is old news what happened to me in 2008. There I was right smack dab in the middle of something 1000 tines bigger than I had a clue about, and you all know what started to happen once I sent my 2007 musical project down to the United States Office of Copyrights, called, “Karaoke Lunch Break at the Sorian 18 Guardhouse”. As the silly ass title implies, I did this on a karaoke machine at my job site over a period of several lunch breaks, when no one was around, hopefully, as I tend to scream out and my singing is horrible, all you need to do to hear how rotten my voice and songs are, is to click into the attached video that will only be up until tomorrow night and then it will be gone and gone riddance, right Senator Electrocution Trophy-wife? Still my point without any further tangents or diversions, is simply that the story does tell itself, and not even the famous genius man could invent a tale like this and make it work out so perfectly for 36 months, or avenues, whatever the case may really be. I truly am sorry if I made anyone's day a little darker here or there, but is what is happening with me a fair punishment? Even Hitler was allowed to simply die, and I would be glad to be put to death, any time. I only wish I could go to Tallahassee and die in the electric chair, and be forever with my baby blond, and never have to exist here for another minute. But reality and my wishes are never in much of an agreement, at least not over the past consistent 56 and a third years of my hellish tormented life.
None of this is the great Terry secret of the great Harbor, if I can be permitted a little pun that relates to the time when this nightmare literally grew wings and somehow in hyperspace I met a man as famous as Christopher Columbus, only in that parallel universe, he was a first cousin of a member of this powerful family, and not a 23rd grandfather, 'the man with the eyes', the same man from 1970 in those nightmares, by the way. The secret is not what is right there for anyone to read and realize that this could in no way have all been made up, not by the craziest person on the planet or the most imaginative, all though the complement is much appreciated there 'Miss UmWell'. Some fiction honey! The biggest secrets did not take place in 1975 in the house of MC, or when I discuss the Gawnum or the Fascitar, or the Millionth Council, or anything else, from the Astral-Plane gods to the Exploratronic supermind, an entire traveling group of “Q” types like the dude on TNG-Star Trek, if you can imagine this ultimate devastating freaking nightmare at light speed cubed. The secret right now is not about the 64 trillion light year hypersphere, the sixth dimension, upline and downline universes, World Laboratories, or anything like this, it is the simple reality of the STM. This stands for the “SPACE-TIME-MIND”. When STM is understood just a little bit, all of life and reality clear up amazingly fast. There is a rare condition discussed in the newest book in psychiatry, the bible of this discipline quite actually, the DSM-5, where a patient begins to believe the 'delusion' that he or she is the only real thing, and that the entire world and everyone in it is just sort of like Hollywood (EXTRA's), and you are sort of as a rat that is inside of a very large cage, being secretly observed and studied. Unfortunately, everyone of us could actually make this claim, and it would be the most real thing outside of the void itself as it gets. This is not to say that the exact way that this psychotic feature of paranoid delusion works in the mind of a disturbed mental patient is truth, as it applies equally to every one of us, through the magic and awesome power of both STM and the precise mechanics of how previous closed curved infinities manage to eventually blast themselves literally out of the void and into existors or LAWTRONS. The interaction of Lawtrons and Space-Time-Mind, is the magic key, and some day I'll attempt to do the unthinkable, and try and explain some of this, after-all it beats throwing tables into someone's face, and before doing that, making contact with Jennifer L. Hewitt as this would be a necessity now, if I may be Heinz Babylon Gottwald 'permitted' one more whittle funny pun here, Whaaaaaaaaa.
END TRANSMISSION:
SBT-DATFILE: CH-116-040611.868.55
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
3RD SUBTITLE OF BLOG: “AM I RIGHT OR WHAT, MI GINA?”
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER #116
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Well, the stock market is flying at right up around all time record highs, JUST AS I SAID IT WOULD AFTER RECEIVING ALL THIS PERSECUTION AND DEMONIC HARASSMENT, and the FLYERS WIN AND WIN AND WIN AND WIN, and the PHILLIES LOSE AND LOSE AND LOSE AND LOSE, just as I told everybody that this was all indeed going to freaking happen, YO.
Thank you so much for coming to me yesterday, DIANA, with your wonderful awesome colorful ravishingly beautiful lightning, my endless love. Don't ever let their persecution of me stop you from coming around because I freaking need you so much my wonderful electron, and have all throughout this horrific endless infinite eternal interaction that I am stuck in, with awareness to it.
No one on this puny dark-age planet has a miniscule clue what it's like to live with this awareness, as well as the total awareness to higher realities that would literally blow all of you away in ten seconds if you were hit with this all at once. I am no exception, with me however, this was a long steady, tedious process of coming to know stuff that no awake mortal should ever be forced to contain in his or her conscious awareness. When even the smallest amount of this starts to surface or even dreams begin to be remembered and put together, in can cause persons to act in all kinds of off the wall ways. The simple fact is that all throughout the history of humanity and recorded civilization, these events in smaller ways have indeed happened, and people went quite nuts and many right now today as I speak, are locked away in booby hatches. You really think I am so ignorant, don't you Paula?
I could begin talking at any time on any given day on one of literally thousands of topics and relate from personal experiences, stuff that if any one of you out here were to read and believed even a part of these truths, would make you nuts as hell. You would go out in your car and slam into people or poles or whatever, or go off to a mall or your job with knives and on and on. This is no joke, so many are naturally saying to themselves, so who are you then MOUNTAINPEN, I mean you are still here and someone part of society and semi-sane enough to survive, yet you are holding hell itself, within your personal space. The two goddesses, Diana and Sarah-Stacey, have carefully done this to me in a perfectly well planned out and extremely methodical way, that the very story just to how this was accomplished along a 20-50 year time-line, humanly, would require a Tolstoy sized book all its own. That is truth. Someday, I will really tell, in new light, as all of us change whether we know it or not, minute by minute from womb to tomb, and our perceptions of the very same identical reality hence, also alters, and then magnifying this reality that with the fact that we all are living in a faced paced rapidly changing global interaction here in human consciousness, and so we must then begin to realize that we would be seeing things even without change in varying ways as we pass through time-line existence in human and awake life, and then this is ultra compounded by an extra fast changing world all around us. The best case and point in my own experiences is with this magical family, that does not even yet have awareness of its own powers in their fullness, thank the gods, literally. It began in the middle nineteen-nineties with my search for one branch of this family, in Atlantic city. All this time, including when I wrote the song entitled, “SARAH” on May 12th in 1996, other branches as well as the Atlantic city branches, all ready remembered me from all sorts of past interactions with them, and in all kinds of various points and areas, within a somewhat regional area of perhaps high double digit mileage. This is one powerful example, and even if nothing else changed with the relationship between me and this awesome family from far beyond the stars themselves, is proof and evidence that supports my wild claims regarding how we all perceive the exact unchanged things quite differently, at different points in our lives as we move forward through the illusion of waking time world interactions of the 5th dimensional hyperspace. When I was molested at the Cornwall Avenue house in Ventnor, New Jersey, the town directly to the south of Atlantic city, America's famous playground and sin city of the East Coast, by a stuttering man named tom Reale, I began having a series of connected or serial dreaming's at this house. The persons in this dreaming interaction identified themselves indirectly by somehow just making it known to me through that mysterious dreaming osmosis of just knowing something that all persons just about can relate to at some point in their life, as “THAT FAMILY. This was the time in my life right after I had stopped interacting with Sarah from Atlantic City, who identified me to her friends on a few occasions as THAT BOY. This may seem totally not out of the ordinary, as Ann King said to me once several years back from the home of Agent Caruso, at 841 Thirteenth Street in Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG, it would be natural for this girl to think of you as “THAT BOY” if you never told her your name, which I admit to being a very private and shy person, and would never think of going up to a girl and telling her my name, not ever to this very day. I am a private person who just does not trust anybody and totally believes that every rotten son of a bitch in the world is out to get me. I know better, and I know that is just silly paranoia, but I have plenty of it, and will openly freaking admit it.
Now let me tell a huge secret tonight. It is old news what happened to me in 2008. There I was right smack dab in the middle of something 1000 tines bigger than I had a clue about, and you all know what started to happen once I sent my 2007 musical project down to the United States Office of Copyrights, called, “Karaoke Lunch Break at the Sorian 18 Guardhouse”. As the silly ass title implies, I did this on a karaoke machine at my job site over a period of several lunch breaks, when no one was around, hopefully, as I tend to scream out and my singing is horrible, all you need to do to hear how rotten my voice and songs are, is to click into the attached video that will only be up until tomorrow night and then it will be gone and gone riddance, right Senator Electrocution Trophy-wife? Still my point without any further tangents or diversions, is simply that the story does tell itself, and not even the famous genius man could invent a tale like this and make it work out so perfectly for 36 months, or avenues, whatever the case may really be. I truly am sorry if I made anyone's day a little darker here or there, but is what is happening with me a fair punishment? Even Hitler was allowed to simply die, and I would be glad to be put to death, any time. I only wish I could go to Tallahassee and die in the electric chair, and be forever with my baby blond, and never have to exist here for another minute. But reality and my wishes are never in much of an agreement, at least not over the past consistent 56 and a third years of my hellish tormented life.
None of this is the great Terry secret of the great Harbor, if I can be permitted a little pun that relates to the time when this nightmare literally grew wings and somehow in hyperspace I met a man as famous as Christopher Columbus, only in that parallel universe, he was a first cousin of a member of this powerful family, and not a 23rd grandfather, 'the man with the eyes', the same man from 1970 in those nightmares, by the way. The secret is not what is right there for anyone to read and realize that this could in no way have all been made up, not by the craziest person on the planet or the most imaginative, all though the complement is much appreciated there 'Miss UmWell'. Some fiction honey! The biggest secrets did not take place in 1975 in the house of MC, or when I discuss the Gawnum or the Fascitar, or the Millionth Council, or anything else, from the Astral-Plane gods to the Exploratronic supermind, an entire traveling group of “Q” types like the dude on TNG-Star Trek, if you can imagine this ultimate devastating freaking nightmare at light speed cubed. The secret right now is not about the 64 trillion light year hypersphere, the sixth dimension, upline and downline universes, World Laboratories, or anything like this, it is the simple reality of the STM. This stands for the “SPACE-TIME-MIND”. When STM is understood just a little bit, all of life and reality clear up amazingly fast. There is a rare condition discussed in the newest book in psychiatry, the bible of this discipline quite actually, the DSM-5, where a patient begins to believe the 'delusion' that he or she is the only real thing, and that the entire world and everyone in it is just sort of like Hollywood (EXTRA's), and you are sort of as a rat that is inside of a very large cage, being secretly observed and studied. Unfortunately, everyone of us could actually make this claim, and it would be the most real thing outside of the void itself as it gets. This is not to say that the exact way that this psychotic feature of paranoid delusion works in the mind of a disturbed mental patient is truth, as it applies equally to every one of us, through the magic and awesome power of both STM and the precise mechanics of how previous closed curved infinities manage to eventually blast themselves literally out of the void and into existors or LAWTRONS. The interaction of Lawtrons and Space-Time-Mind, is the magic key, and some day I'll attempt to do the unthinkable, and try and explain some of this, after-all it beats throwing tables into someone's face, and before doing that, making contact with Jennifer L. Hewitt as this would be a necessity now, if I may be Heinz Babylon Gottwald 'permitted' one more whittle funny pun here, Whaaaaaaaaa.
END TRANSMISSION:
Monday, March 28, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 110
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 110
WORLD LABS OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE: 032811.MISS DIRT BALL JANE PM
BLOG 3RD SUBTITLE: “HOW CAN YOU WIN WHEN
YOU ARE CONNECTED WITH THE HHHHHHH-RED-X”?
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I don't have a lot to say or tell, but these few quick words and this short message is very necessary, and who knows, maybe it is finally the perfect combination of letters, from A-Z?
First, I asked a deck of normal playing cards with the four suits of ace through nines, a question in my mind during the drawing of both my first as well as my second card. My draws were a one and a five, producing the GAWNUM PRIVATE-COSMICODED NUMBER OF 154, as any loyal MORIAN knows quite well. Google up the “GAWNUM”, for those newbies who don't have a freaking clue, YO. Speaking of the GAWNUM, this blog number is totally symbolic and representative of none other than the “GREAT MOTHER”, SSJK's mom, JULIA WHITE, of the great book of 1994, written and copyrighted by me, the Mountainpen, called, “The Permission Barrier”. JULIA WHIE has the PCN-110, and this is SJ-#110, like DUH, not DUD-HACK, Lattisaw jack-quack-hack attack. Nothing happens in an isolated way, and all things FIT, cosmicly. PCN-154 was produced by a normal playing card deck, while I kept shuffling and drawing my two picks, and the question in my mind was, “What was the call from San Mateo, California all about and how could they cause the memory of a stored number to vanish off of the caller-ID screen built into my desk-top telephone, and who are these people? Only two matches are in my GAWNUM book for the number of PCN-154, out of many hundreds of my matched combinations of numbers, names and phrases and word groups all written down on a red and white Wal-Mart lined notebook. These two items are, “ROUNDHOUSE”, and “MARY CARTER”. Am I shocked, or for that matter DJ-Donna, surprised; after all, it is as you said so well in the late nineteen-hundred-seventies, “OUR SONG”??????!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Roundhouse Museum of Egg Harbor, and the author of the fantastic and riveting book entitled, “Secrets of the Museum”, by Roy Carl Weiler Senior, is a powerful hyperspace reality, its location, its truths, all of it, the name of the author, and so much more, only could be really and truly disputed by morons. Real quantum physicists know that too much shit is going down here not to be beyond the rational or the explained by the non-surreal. Mary Carter Paint Company, as does the museum, speaks for itself and needs no further words from me right now. However, on many past blogs from 2-5 years back, all of these issues and items are absolutely and thoroughly discussed and explained. Nothing is fictional, over exaggerated, or delusional, and many now are beginning to realize this, from here all the way to China and Japan over the past three freaking years. Keep the volume down when listening to the things we can do in another (18) years, and you too, in the history class, TOLD YOU!! Don't ever let me trick anyone now, STM is a parlor trick, it is never any more than that, and before Einstein figured out just ST, there was only what there was before that as far as humankind's wisdom and scientific knowledge went.
Now we could be brave and get into some super ass heavy shit tonight, but instead, only the following message will be printed. I would very much like to believe a few things, but if they were true and I could know it, there would be no stock market left by the summer time, and that is not permitted. 'All of this is under THEIR total control'. If nothing else is ever believed that is printed on this blog, I do know for a fact that the last sentence IS, that I've placed in semi-quotations marks. Now to wrap up the show and pull Emy-Amy's curtains together in eighty-three. Talk about historical repetitions. I would like to believe the nice comment n the MF was written by the only one who could possibly know these truths on this planet, well, one of the two. Then, it would be nice to have a glimmer shade of hope that you know what is happening now, and by whom, to whom, and that you are aware that where I am but will not be much longer, are ways that a clever mind, can reach me, without being blunt or out in the open. After all, it has now reached this point, why not at least go past the smiley faces now? I think I know the possible seven peeps at the 'H', that 8-letter again, that all ready somehow, and in some way or various small degrees, are here because 'I AM HERE', only it is now 23 years after the Copyright Examiners and McDonald's employees were burning up their shoes dancing to this truth, only the 'Briggbase' period of 20 years, as Paul Stoddard and the gang knew fully well of BACK IN LATE 1969, AND EARLY INTO 1970; would perfectly place things right where they were when I was kidnapped under a Stockholm Syndrome. I know a Dalmatian Dog personally, very personally in fact, who is having a horrific nightmare called 'MOUNTAINPEN', and is B---E---G-------ing his Teen Queen to find a way around what happened to me today, and tell me what I need to do. If any of my few memories are serving me correctly from almost twenty-six years ago, I know you are clever and street smart, far beyond Diana's worthless brother, and can get a message through to me, after all, he did. I am right here, and you know where. I only trust the few that I mentioned in this circle from “H”. I know you are always watching over me, and need no bible to tell me that, TQ. Interesting choice in dates for Washington, DC Kite Festival, would you not agree my lovely brown eyes? OYR!!!!!!! I believe in you, if that means anything at all any more. You wanted an apology, I gave you the best one that I could. It is late, and I am very worn out. Let me say, END TRANSMISSION:
WORLD LABS OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE: 032811.MISS DIRT BALL JANE PM
BLOG 3RD SUBTITLE: “HOW CAN YOU WIN WHEN
YOU ARE CONNECTED WITH THE HHHHHHH-RED-X”?
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I don't have a lot to say or tell, but these few quick words and this short message is very necessary, and who knows, maybe it is finally the perfect combination of letters, from A-Z?
First, I asked a deck of normal playing cards with the four suits of ace through nines, a question in my mind during the drawing of both my first as well as my second card. My draws were a one and a five, producing the GAWNUM PRIVATE-COSMICODED NUMBER OF 154, as any loyal MORIAN knows quite well. Google up the “GAWNUM”, for those newbies who don't have a freaking clue, YO. Speaking of the GAWNUM, this blog number is totally symbolic and representative of none other than the “GREAT MOTHER”, SSJK's mom, JULIA WHITE, of the great book of 1994, written and copyrighted by me, the Mountainpen, called, “The Permission Barrier”. JULIA WHIE has the PCN-110, and this is SJ-#110, like DUH, not DUD-HACK, Lattisaw jack-quack-hack attack. Nothing happens in an isolated way, and all things FIT, cosmicly. PCN-154 was produced by a normal playing card deck, while I kept shuffling and drawing my two picks, and the question in my mind was, “What was the call from San Mateo, California all about and how could they cause the memory of a stored number to vanish off of the caller-ID screen built into my desk-top telephone, and who are these people? Only two matches are in my GAWNUM book for the number of PCN-154, out of many hundreds of my matched combinations of numbers, names and phrases and word groups all written down on a red and white Wal-Mart lined notebook. These two items are, “ROUNDHOUSE”, and “MARY CARTER”. Am I shocked, or for that matter DJ-Donna, surprised; after all, it is as you said so well in the late nineteen-hundred-seventies, “OUR SONG”??????!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Roundhouse Museum of Egg Harbor, and the author of the fantastic and riveting book entitled, “Secrets of the Museum”, by Roy Carl Weiler Senior, is a powerful hyperspace reality, its location, its truths, all of it, the name of the author, and so much more, only could be really and truly disputed by morons. Real quantum physicists know that too much shit is going down here not to be beyond the rational or the explained by the non-surreal. Mary Carter Paint Company, as does the museum, speaks for itself and needs no further words from me right now. However, on many past blogs from 2-5 years back, all of these issues and items are absolutely and thoroughly discussed and explained. Nothing is fictional, over exaggerated, or delusional, and many now are beginning to realize this, from here all the way to China and Japan over the past three freaking years. Keep the volume down when listening to the things we can do in another (18) years, and you too, in the history class, TOLD YOU!! Don't ever let me trick anyone now, STM is a parlor trick, it is never any more than that, and before Einstein figured out just ST, there was only what there was before that as far as humankind's wisdom and scientific knowledge went.
Now we could be brave and get into some super ass heavy shit tonight, but instead, only the following message will be printed. I would very much like to believe a few things, but if they were true and I could know it, there would be no stock market left by the summer time, and that is not permitted. 'All of this is under THEIR total control'. If nothing else is ever believed that is printed on this blog, I do know for a fact that the last sentence IS, that I've placed in semi-quotations marks. Now to wrap up the show and pull Emy-Amy's curtains together in eighty-three. Talk about historical repetitions. I would like to believe the nice comment n the MF was written by the only one who could possibly know these truths on this planet, well, one of the two. Then, it would be nice to have a glimmer shade of hope that you know what is happening now, and by whom, to whom, and that you are aware that where I am but will not be much longer, are ways that a clever mind, can reach me, without being blunt or out in the open. After all, it has now reached this point, why not at least go past the smiley faces now? I think I know the possible seven peeps at the 'H', that 8-letter again, that all ready somehow, and in some way or various small degrees, are here because 'I AM HERE', only it is now 23 years after the Copyright Examiners and McDonald's employees were burning up their shoes dancing to this truth, only the 'Briggbase' period of 20 years, as Paul Stoddard and the gang knew fully well of BACK IN LATE 1969, AND EARLY INTO 1970; would perfectly place things right where they were when I was kidnapped under a Stockholm Syndrome. I know a Dalmatian Dog personally, very personally in fact, who is having a horrific nightmare called 'MOUNTAINPEN', and is B---E---G-------ing his Teen Queen to find a way around what happened to me today, and tell me what I need to do. If any of my few memories are serving me correctly from almost twenty-six years ago, I know you are clever and street smart, far beyond Diana's worthless brother, and can get a message through to me, after all, he did. I am right here, and you know where. I only trust the few that I mentioned in this circle from “H”. I know you are always watching over me, and need no bible to tell me that, TQ. Interesting choice in dates for Washington, DC Kite Festival, would you not agree my lovely brown eyes? OYR!!!!!!! I believe in you, if that means anything at all any more. You wanted an apology, I gave you the best one that I could. It is late, and I am very worn out. Let me say, END TRANSMISSION:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
